Teirle

Well, when I wasn't being incredibly dense in a bookshop this weekend, I was cleaning the kitchen.

And when I wasn't cleaning the kitchen, I was drawing--this!

I am so ridiculously proud of this picture, I won't even start talking about it. Except to say that it looks much better in person, because a lot of the shading looks a bit bland in this photo. Oh, well. This is the first scrap of art I've been able to do since coming here, because all my drawing paper was left at home. But I finally have a sketch book again. And it's much bigger than I'm used to--about twice the size of my old 8 1/2" x 11" book--so this was a challenge, drawing something to fill the page. But it worked. I love it :D

For those of you who are privy to my secret novel, this is Teirle, when he was younger. Thank you very much to Lathspell for sending me an inspiring photo.

An Almost-Oops

So I went to a bookstore yesterday. I've been going every weekend, sure as clockwork, to nab a few books, find a cozy corner in the store, and read for a few hours before regretfully putting the books back on their shelves. I'm in college, I need to be saving my money for more 'practical' purchases--like the MLA handbook I bought a few weeks ago--but I really miss my huge library at home, and the rare finds I can scrounge off of the shelf at my English hall help somewhat, but aren't really a replacement.

So during the course of a couple weekends I've almost finished Howl's Moving Castle and I'm nearly fifty pages through Tarzan of the Apes, both of which I am enjoying very much. (Yes, I know, I really need to get a library card. That's on the to-do list for this weekend.)

Well, I went to the store yesterday, and was unable to find Howl, which was a pity because I wanted to finish it up. So instead of reading I ended up wandering up and down aisles of books like a little lost child, hunting for something good to read, something new. Something that was new, fantasy-ish, completely enjoyable, and didn't have a title starting with 'B' and ending with 'risingr'. Ugh.

Of course I naturally thought longingly of Inkdeath, the last book in the Inkheart trilogy which I am a huge fan of, but I had asked my mother during a phonecall only five days earlier if she knew when the book came out, and she had looked it up online and told me that it came out in two weeks. Still, when I saw a display for the series I looked it over anyway in a sort of vain hope.

And no, they didn't have it. There was Inkheart, down at the bottom, and that other book in purple on top--Inkspell, I told myself, looking at its cover in disappointment. Well, too bad. I'd just keep hunting.

I wandered off.

And then about thirty seconds later I had a moment which must be as close as any human can get to the classic cartoon image of a dejected little character moping away, and then--double take!--happy lightbulb dings into place over the head!--the little character speeds back to the book display, and lo and behold, there is the book she had been searching for, which she had just been gazing at and had not realized was the one she wanted, the one she had left behind, while the audience watching was giggling at her idiocy.

Yeah, the purple book was Inkdeath. I had read the title, seen the cover, and it still didn't sink in. So sometimes I'm just not smart.

At least it sank in eventually.

And so much for practical purchases. I am now a few dollars poorer, but immeasurably happier, and I am on page 213 of Inkdeath . . .

Before You Go . . .

In honor of Laura's upcoming plane flights around the nation on her quest for the perfect college, here's a video that every person about to go on a plane ought to see. I discovered it two days before my trip to Hawaii. Oddly, it didn't help my plane-phobia much . . .

'If God Had Made Me a Leaf . . .'

A poem which came to me as I walked from one end of campus to the other, inspired I think by the glorious whirling green of the enormous trees arching over me. It's a little strange, and very short, but it makes sort of sense to me, and I liked it enough to remember it. Perhaps not my best poetry, but since I haven't posted any writings in so long . . . here you go.

If God Had Made Me a Leaf

If God had made me a Leaf
Dancing in a Tree

I would have Spent my Springtime
Trembling
At my inevitable Fall.

Iliad + Mosaic = Love

Seen at a museum before I left home: A fragmented and ancient mosaic, I can't remember if Greek or Roman, depicting the moment of The Iliad when Agamemnon sends soldiers to steal away Briseis. As an Iliad fan, I loved this so much, but due to bad lighting and a 'no flash' camera policy, I was unable to take particularly good quality photos. I took lots of photos at the museum, and now that I have my camera cable, I will be uploading periodically. Lots of neat Trojan War related articles. But this was beautiful.

From the right: Briseis, Phoenix, Achilles, and Patroclus. Patroclus! How cool is that? And I love Achilles' hair . . . Those of you who read my 'Hector' story will remember the emphasis I placed on Achilles' hair . . . and here it is reddish and long and wild like I described it. Makes me happy :)

Literary Quote #3--Orthodoxy

. . . even nursery tales only echo an almost prenatal leap of interest and amazement. These tales say that apples were golden only to refresh the forgotten moment when we found that they were green. They make rivers run with wine only to make us remember, for one wild moment, that they run with water.

(At last, quotes from one of my favorite books, G.K. Chesterton's Orthodoxy! It's a defense of Christianity, and Catholicism in particular, but even if you're not Catholic you absolutely must read the chapter titled 'The Ethics of Elfland', which to me was a spiritual re-awakening and a simply beautiful piece of writing. It reminds me of how Lewis said Christianity was the perfect myth; well Chesterton was the man who influenced Lewis' Christianity, and he says Christianity is the perfect fairy tale, something which completely enthralled my imagination. And then it also includes this beautiful passage:)

The sun rises every morning. . . His routine might be due, not to a lifelessness, but to a rush of life. The thing I mean can be seen, for instance, in children, when they find some game or joke that they specially enjoy. A child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want thigns repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. it is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy seperately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the infinite appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we. . .

Dead Parrot!

In keeping with Andromache's current blog theme of things to do with the words "dead" and "Monty" and "Python", I thought that as her Minion #2 I'd post another video. Probably you've seen this one already. If you haven't, well I'm glad to introduce you to it. If you have--hey, watch it again, an excess of silliness never hurt anyone!




PS- By the way, I do hope you all knew it was 'National Talk Like a Pirate Day' on the nineteenth and celebrated accordingly? I didn't manage to post on the day, too busy, so if you didn't I guess the blame's on me. Arrgh!

Sleep . . .

If the stress of everyday living is ever getting you down, or if you live in Hawaii and suffer from insomnia due to the humid nights, or if homework is keeping you awake and caffinated 24/7, just listen to this song. It makes everything better.

Free Books!

So, my English class is on the fourth floor of the English building, and I always take the elevator (which, incidentally, my professor warned the class in direst terms is foolish to the extreme because people have gotten stuck in the elevator in the past. But if she thinks I'm going to haul my enormous 3-ton rolling backpack up four flights of stairs and down again, she is mistaken!). Once out of the elevator, I come to a hallway, and then to my classroom.

In this hallway are three bookcases, each stretching taller than me. And they are simply overflowing with old, thick books of varying degrees of wear.

Every time I went to class, I would slow down to admire the books and wonder if they were available to be read, or put there for storage or something of that nature. But, typical me, I also kept forgetting to ask my professor about it.

Well, I asked her yesterday. Her response?

"Oh, those are just old books nobody wants. It's like a book dump. Take whatever you like, they're all free."

So now I have paperback versions of Othello and Hamlet, an enormous book bound in red cloth which is titled 'A Collection of 18th Century British Literature', a seventy-year-old tiny hard-cover version of A Comedy of Errors, and the complete works of Percy Bysshe Shelley. Admittedly, the last is missing its cover, but since that inevitably happens to any book I love, I do not mind (some of you may know I like Shelley's poetry?). I just carefully taped it up and am now happily reading Prometheus Bound for the first time.

I am still exulting in my good fortune and pitying the sort of people who would throw this kind of literature on the dump heap. Still, good for them; they make people like me very happy.

Oh, and I'm looking forward to my next English class very much now . . .


Gorgeous Pic

Literary Quote #2--Les Misérables

Jean Valjean gave her this uncultivated garden. "Do whatever you like with it," he said to her. It delighted Cosette; she ransacked every thicket and turned over every stone, she looked for 'animals'; she played while waiting to dream; she loved this garden for the insects she found in the grass under her feet, until she would love it for the stars she could see in the branches over her head.

(Note: Well, it is rather hard to choose a favorite quote from a book as lengthly and wonderful as Les Miserables. But this is definitely one of the top selections on my list. One of the best descriptions of the passing from girlhood to womanhood that I have ever read.)

The Hibiscus

On Thursday as I was leaving my grandmother's work I noticed a perfect, beautiful white hibiscus lying on the pavement. It must have just fallen from its stem. I remarked on it then, but I don't remember what I said now, and happily picked it up.


Then I noticed that it was also swarming with ants, so I dropped it again and with a slight regret went on my way.


Dropping the flower has haunted me ever since. For when I returned to the same spot the next day, I glanced down as I walked past and saw the poor flower still there, but now slightly bruised. The recent rains battered it to pieces, and I saw its whiteness fade to a fragile, weary grey.


Today I saw it again: a shrivelled, sad, hideous thing, crumpled at the side of the path. And I thought: Could I have saved it? If I had taken it home, put it in the empty vase upon my dresser, would it still be lovely?


I think there's a powerful metaphor in there somewhere . . .


Pic

You Don't Want to Know

Yeah, you really don't. You don't want to know about how I've only gotten five hours of sleep per night for the past few days. You don't want to know that my homework load was crushing this week, and that I'm rather disgruntled about my final essay. I also have a Russian quiz today that you don't want to know about.

And you don't want to know about how I'm feeling so exhausted right now, I might fall asleep in philosophy class.

You really don't want to know--So why are you still reading this? ;)

Before I leave you for now, dear ones, here's an excerpt from the opening of that fairytale story I told you I was writing a few posts back. It had initially been planned as a birthday present for Andromache, which shows you how terrible I am with my writing recently >.< Sorry about that. Don't worry, Andromache, it's still dedicated to you, but it might end up being a Christmas present instead, lol.


They were odd, the ways of magic. Do not open the box; do not light the lamp; do not look back, Orpheus, until you reach the sunlight. It was always so--dreadful and simple, the harmless elevated into something deadly. She walked steadily through the cavern, eyes fixed serenely upon the glimmer of light that was the door in the far wall. Peculiar. She held her doom in her hands, yet it was not heavy. It felt empty. Light. Had Pandora’s box, too, been light, or had it been heavy? She had never thought of it before. How much did all the evil of the world weigh?

She examined the little box keenly as she walked calmly through the chamber. It was small enough to fit snugly clasped in one hand, carved of a black wood, so black it hurt her eyes to look at it, and polished until it gleamed like a mirror, so that in its black face she saw her own gazing back up at her. The box was wrapped with slender, twisted designs like golden spiderweb, intricate and frightening and yet beautiful. Not that she was afraid; not a bit of it. She was too clever for that . . .

Rain, rain . . .

Today I stepped outside at about seven o'clock to head to classes, and was greeted by a clear, high rainbow, which arced seemingly from the mountains all the way to somewhere in the city. I was entranced. I've never seen such a large, beautiful rainbow.

And then, when I left one building later this morning to get to another for class--rain! Pouring down. My grandmother made me use an umbrella, which is practical I guess because it protected my books from the wet. But oh, how lovely that rain was! It felt like the rain in Lorien, gentle and soft and clean. And the light is so bright, here, that it sheeted like a curtain of silver beads, all distinct and glittering in the air before the drops hit the pavement. And the pavement itself shone like white gold.

It smelled good, too, a sweet, rich rainforesty smell. Green and alive.

Good thing I have my grandmother watching out for me! Because otherwise I surely would have just run merrily to class exulting in getting drenched with the rain's splendor. And then all my books would have been ruined.

Reason #2 Why . . .

. . . I'm learning Russian. Watch the two vids in order. If you don't know the general plotline of 'War and Peace', then you might not understand this . . . but I believe you will . . . Both feature Andrei and Natasha. And both actor and actress are absolutely stunning in this film.

These clips are taken from the Soviet film 'Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace', which was many many hours long and the most expensive film ever made. I finally watched the film after reading the book this summer, and . . . wow. Amazing. And these two scenes--separated by hours of film, and then both sharing that incredible music--made me cry. No kidding!

Video 1: Andrei and Natasha meet at a ball. . .


Video 2: And they meet again years later . . .

Enjoy! And that's all the videoblogging I'm doing today . . .

'Mortal Fight'

'M afraid I must use a link here, because the video in question is on a Russian website. BUT for those of you who like Sherlock Holmes, this is a must-see. You can skip through most of it if you like, I suppose, but Holmes' showdown with Moriarty is absolutely amazing. It makes the Granada version look like kid's play. So I'd say you could jump ahead to 41:30 if you want to.

http://webteleradio.com/media14/sherlok-shvatka2.htm

And for those of you who haven't read the book *gasp* this episode is an adaptation of 'The Final Problem'. So read it first!

The Reason Why . . .

. . . I decided to study Russian. Well, a big part of the reason anyways.

I don't know how to upload video and am too tired to try and learn right now. So you'll have to make do with a link for the time-being.

*EDIT* Thanks to Andromache's brilliance and kind-heartedness and/or lack of other posting topics, I have now uploaded the video here. So now you don't have to navigate away from my beautiful blog to watch videos I recommend. Because I know you REALLY hated leaving . . .

Who says the best Sherlock Holmes in the world has to be British?

Ramble. . . ramble . . . ramble . . .

Well, I'm not bored anymore. Homework kinda kills the boredom.

I am particularly happy right now because I discovered a place on campus which is basically a common drop-off site where all students can dump the things they don't want, and where scroungers like myself can go and find some worthwhile things. I found an old beat-up book of Arthurian tales. Granted, there's nothing quite as good as Once and Future King or the original Malory, but as I left both of those at home (dratted luggage weight limits!) I'm delighted to have some version of the stories for free now. It'll tide me over until I go to the bookstore and have spending money to use getting some books. I desperately want Les Miserables and the Once and Future King.

Speaking of Les Miserables, has anyone here seen the musical? I have the soundtrack, and listen to it literally whenever I have my iPod on. I listen while doing homework, while exercising, etc. Gorgeous music/songs/voices. I also listen to soundtracks, though.

Kat, I am going to buy some Poets songs just as soon as I get access to iTunes. Can't wait.

Hum, anything else? . . . I was going to talk about how much fun I had while speaking on the phone yesterday with the amazing Lady Linden, but she beat me to it. I'm not a very efficient blogger. Um, well, to make a long story short, I was doing philosophy homework and then got a lovely surprise phonecall and spent about an hour chatting with the Maid of the North. And yeah, I NEVER talk about politics--But it was fun, Laura!

Well, it rained slightly today, but there was only one rainbow that I saw. I was inside most of the time, doing homework/attending classes. My Russian class is very awesome.

I also had lunch with my grandma and a friend, and spent the morning borrowing pens from various acquaintences because I had forgotten mine >.<

Oh, and while I was walking on the sidewalk I came across a dead cockroach as long as my forefinger, with its legs all curled up they way bugs generally look when they're dead. But this one got me wondering: When cockroaches know they're dying, do they fold their limbs in prayer?

. . . Yes, I'm sleep-deprived. How could you tell? ;)

Can You Tell I'm Bored?

New format, multiple posts in one day . . . Sheesh! But when my homework's all done and my emails are all replied to and my next class isn't for three hours--what else is there for me to do? :)

Anyway, here's a new piece of art! It's also in my gallery, but you know . . . this way you don't have to jump around. Not unless you REALLY want to, that is.

My first attempt at drawing Luthien. Because a Tolkien fan and artist just ain't a Tolkien fan and artist until she's attempted a portrait of Arda's most beautiful being, right? ;)

The Sweet Potato god

I went to a museum yesterday with a friend, and since he has a superior camera, he was able to get this picture in the dim museum interior, a picture we both wanted because the little idol was just so funny! Then he sent it to me this morning in a surprise email.

So, pic for this post courtesy of N.S. Thanks, mellon!