Thinking about a Wild West summer...
I would feel like I was going to melt into summer warmth. Magically, the sun is shining and the snow dissolves, leaving brown hues in its wake. The wind turns warm and humid, and is sparse. I question whether I really feel a breeze or it's so hot, I imagine a cooling presence. The cold air that had so frozen my lungs just that previous winter not so long ago, becomes hot and sticky, leaving me parched. Sweat immediately forms on my brow and I look over the brown fields, feeling the heat of the sun on my shoulders and the heat radiating up from the cooked cracked earth. Summer was having an intensity matched by nothing other than the fires of Hell.
The plains are still rolling and the shades of brown are many. The fields are dirty dark brown, and as the hills raise and lower, the hues become darker and lighter. The round bales of hay dot the landscape, giving it a polka dotted look. And the pattern of bales at first appears random, but upon closer examination the rows of bales are symmetrical and aligned, making a quilt like pattern across the otherwise unadorned fields, in a covering of summer.
The humidity and summer sun has done its job and cooked the earth until it cracked, leaving gouges running through the hardened, dried mud. Tractors and long ago rains worked together to leave the huge ruts, like craters, making the terrain uneven and broken, almost scarred. Not even the brilliant blue sky, like a tall drink of water, can ease the hotness, the lines of heat reverberating from the ground. The scrub brushes wilt in the mid day sun and not a tumbleweed blows across my path. The sage brush is limp, tired from the beating it received from the summer's intensity. Land as far as the eye can see, miles of brown with golden dots of hay, lasting forever, until it joins hands with the blue sky at the horizon.
Maggie
Showing posts with label fine writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fine writing. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Wishing for spring causes memories of a past one
A piece of writing about a spring I experienced while living in the Wild West...
I am now ensconced in springtime. I can hear the honking of the Canadian geese and when I look up, I see their perfect military like formation, their wings flapping in harmony with each other, propelling them across the sky. I hear the bray of cattle, which are grazing in a green field, paying no attention to me. I watch their tails flick bugs and the movement of their jaws as they roll cud around in their enormous mouths. Their black and white colors contrast the green drastically. Green is the dominant color, even the air appears green. The hint of grass as it starts to peer out of the dirt seems to look like a green spray painted ground. The dirt road is dark brown, muddy, from the rains, and cuts a swathed path through the greenness that hangs in the air.
Wet, damp earth infiltrates my nose and I inhale deeply, enjoying the scent. Wildflowers are just starting to bloom along the dirt path that could be a road and the floral tinge to the air makes me smile.
I pull my jacket from my shoulders and I enjoy the breeze across my skin, as welcome as a familiar lover. The sun hangs low on the horizon and the spring sunset has dark blues and purples chasing the reds and pinks across the almost night sky. The sunset paintbox is spilled and as the gloaming comes quickly, the green of the day disappears, and darkness quickly settles, leaving me to wait for the rebirth of yet another season.
Maggie
I am now ensconced in springtime. I can hear the honking of the Canadian geese and when I look up, I see their perfect military like formation, their wings flapping in harmony with each other, propelling them across the sky. I hear the bray of cattle, which are grazing in a green field, paying no attention to me. I watch their tails flick bugs and the movement of their jaws as they roll cud around in their enormous mouths. Their black and white colors contrast the green drastically. Green is the dominant color, even the air appears green. The hint of grass as it starts to peer out of the dirt seems to look like a green spray painted ground. The dirt road is dark brown, muddy, from the rains, and cuts a swathed path through the greenness that hangs in the air.
Wet, damp earth infiltrates my nose and I inhale deeply, enjoying the scent. Wildflowers are just starting to bloom along the dirt path that could be a road and the floral tinge to the air makes me smile.
I pull my jacket from my shoulders and I enjoy the breeze across my skin, as welcome as a familiar lover. The sun hangs low on the horizon and the spring sunset has dark blues and purples chasing the reds and pinks across the almost night sky. The sunset paintbox is spilled and as the gloaming comes quickly, the green of the day disappears, and darkness quickly settles, leaving me to wait for the rebirth of yet another season.
Maggie
Sunday, February 6, 2011
A winter moment I experienced years ago
We just keep getting more and more and more and more snow here. Yesterday I was supposed to take Princess to a baby shower for a friend of hers in the next town over. I got stuck in the driveway. I finally tunneled out of that and slid down the hill to town. As I was getting fuel in the car I watched cars sliding down the major highway road as they attempted to go up a hill. Finally a policeman showed up and prevented traffic from going in that direction. A guy at the service station who came from there said they were stopping traffic until a plow and salt/ sand truck could get there.
Since I had some time on my hands and I didn't want to do anything productive like clean or laundry, I was looking at some old- by old I mean 4 or 5 years ago old- blog material and I found the following. I wrote this about a winter moment I had when I lived in the the Wild West. I thought it was at least apropos for the season, if nothing else.
The arctic-like wind blows across the plains, sweeping the snow into swirls like sheets dancing on a clothes line. The barren land is white as far as the eye can see in the twilight. The peaks of the gumbo hills are covered in white fluff, standing proud and tall in the distance. But the hills cannot break the impressive line of whiteness that stretches for endless miles. It's the sort of day where dawn breaks but the haze in the sky hangs low and the clouds cannot be discerned from the contrasting sky; there is not a difference between in the heavens and the earth. We are stuck in a world of white and it seems as if the sky and land know no ending nor beginning.
The snow covers the world and cocoons it from any other colors. It seems as if heaven has collapsed into the Earth. There are not trees in this field nor in the distance. Just earth, covered in the cold blanket called winter. The plains slope and gently roll, but the whiteness is overwhelming and dominates the world. The fence line is hidden under the winter sheets, as are the scrub bushes and sage brush.
The only signs of life in this apocalyptic setting are two fold: the footprints of a deer, one single set of tracks, that almost daintily dot the lonely landscape leaving a trail which suddenly ends in a small dip in the distance. The other is the wind. The silent blowing has a noise, even as it sweeps across the desolateness. Though there are no trees to whistle through, there is a steady humming in the gale forces that add to the sheer aloneness of this winter land, that is wondrous in a sad way.
As I slowly turn away, my breath in a cloudy fog around my head, I gasp mouthfuls of the freezing cold air, tasting the frozen harsh earth, enraptured by what is winter.
Maggie
Since I had some time on my hands and I didn't want to do anything productive like clean or laundry, I was looking at some old- by old I mean 4 or 5 years ago old- blog material and I found the following. I wrote this about a winter moment I had when I lived in the the Wild West. I thought it was at least apropos for the season, if nothing else.
The arctic-like wind blows across the plains, sweeping the snow into swirls like sheets dancing on a clothes line. The barren land is white as far as the eye can see in the twilight. The peaks of the gumbo hills are covered in white fluff, standing proud and tall in the distance. But the hills cannot break the impressive line of whiteness that stretches for endless miles. It's the sort of day where dawn breaks but the haze in the sky hangs low and the clouds cannot be discerned from the contrasting sky; there is not a difference between in the heavens and the earth. We are stuck in a world of white and it seems as if the sky and land know no ending nor beginning.
The snow covers the world and cocoons it from any other colors. It seems as if heaven has collapsed into the Earth. There are not trees in this field nor in the distance. Just earth, covered in the cold blanket called winter. The plains slope and gently roll, but the whiteness is overwhelming and dominates the world. The fence line is hidden under the winter sheets, as are the scrub bushes and sage brush.
The only signs of life in this apocalyptic setting are two fold: the footprints of a deer, one single set of tracks, that almost daintily dot the lonely landscape leaving a trail which suddenly ends in a small dip in the distance. The other is the wind. The silent blowing has a noise, even as it sweeps across the desolateness. Though there are no trees to whistle through, there is a steady humming in the gale forces that add to the sheer aloneness of this winter land, that is wondrous in a sad way.
As I slowly turn away, my breath in a cloudy fog around my head, I gasp mouthfuls of the freezing cold air, tasting the frozen harsh earth, enraptured by what is winter.
Maggie
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Modern day pen and ink
People who write often have a profound connection with others who share the same passion for words, for they drip from our lips like honey and the ink flows across the page filled with our hearts desires, secrets, passions and even our mundane nothing thoughts.
There are the non -writers in the world who don't understand the profound effect the power of the pen can have. Words can be welded like a weapon and used for good or evil. The outpouring of words from a writer allows reader and writer to have a bond like no other. Writers connect with each other through the written word- it's our craft, we want to reach people, to touch people, to create emotions... and sometimes, the non-writer just doesn't understand this.
This is a huge idea, even a poetic one, but a true one. Let's look at letters. I always wax poetic about letters, famous love letters. These are kept and bound in books and shared as a part of history. Writing these letters is a way to express every part of a person. I love to look at letters as a form of history and I even collect books of letters from love letters to war letters to famous correspondence between famous lovers. The words dance across the page and stir within us a need to purge our soul to another, even if it's merely a re -accounting of daily events. The written word in a letter carries joys and sorrows to another who is thousands of miles away.
Words can fuse people together. Those who have never met can feel a tie to another just through words. I read an immense amount of books and I swear I could "fall" for the character of Ranger in the Stephanie Plum (I would be friends with her, too) book series. I have the hots for Atticus Kodiak, another book character. I think Atticus Finch could be considered one of the best fathers of all times. These are fictional people whom I shall never meet since they are the mind's creation, but the power of the author's words, voice, style, mind leads me to be attracted to fictional men.
Look at bloggers. This is a world where a writer can make friends. Actual real friends. Yes, because we are all writers and have the absolute power of the scribe at our fingertips. Our craft allows us to make others laugh or cry or be angry. We tune in to our favorite bloggers for a good laugh or to see if someone is feeling better. We cheer on these total strangers in their quests for happy lives. We bare the details of our lives for all the world to see. We become encapsulated by some, and weary and wary of others. We want to see who had a baby, how the divorce is progressing, who found a job, moved across the country, share a recipe, nominate each other for top blogger (please vote for me), and to see if someone is just having a better day... We feel for others in the world of writing: we share emotions with these strangers who are miles, states, countries and worlds apart from us.
I have a bunch of lurkers- why do you folks come here? I mean really-I never thought I was interesting enough for strangers to read my life saga daily but apparently some people out there want to know what wacky Lucy Ricardo thing I'm going to end up doing next.
We bloggers have formed a community and are forming bonds and friendships that can lead to anything from reading to comments to emails to phone calls to visits. Some even marry or find romance. Many bloggers meet each other for fun. Some people think blogging friendships are strange... I dunno, I think it just makes sense. The people in my blog world know as much, or maybe more, about me than my non-blogging friends. It seems like a safe place to be myself. I like this forum. I like it as a writer, as a blogger, and as me. The power of the pen is a force to be reckoned with.
Maggie
There are the non -writers in the world who don't understand the profound effect the power of the pen can have. Words can be welded like a weapon and used for good or evil. The outpouring of words from a writer allows reader and writer to have a bond like no other. Writers connect with each other through the written word- it's our craft, we want to reach people, to touch people, to create emotions... and sometimes, the non-writer just doesn't understand this.
This is a huge idea, even a poetic one, but a true one. Let's look at letters. I always wax poetic about letters, famous love letters. These are kept and bound in books and shared as a part of history. Writing these letters is a way to express every part of a person. I love to look at letters as a form of history and I even collect books of letters from love letters to war letters to famous correspondence between famous lovers. The words dance across the page and stir within us a need to purge our soul to another, even if it's merely a re -accounting of daily events. The written word in a letter carries joys and sorrows to another who is thousands of miles away.
Words can fuse people together. Those who have never met can feel a tie to another just through words. I read an immense amount of books and I swear I could "fall" for the character of Ranger in the Stephanie Plum (I would be friends with her, too) book series. I have the hots for Atticus Kodiak, another book character. I think Atticus Finch could be considered one of the best fathers of all times. These are fictional people whom I shall never meet since they are the mind's creation, but the power of the author's words, voice, style, mind leads me to be attracted to fictional men.
Look at bloggers. This is a world where a writer can make friends. Actual real friends. Yes, because we are all writers and have the absolute power of the scribe at our fingertips. Our craft allows us to make others laugh or cry or be angry. We tune in to our favorite bloggers for a good laugh or to see if someone is feeling better. We cheer on these total strangers in their quests for happy lives. We bare the details of our lives for all the world to see. We become encapsulated by some, and weary and wary of others. We want to see who had a baby, how the divorce is progressing, who found a job, moved across the country, share a recipe, nominate each other for top blogger (please vote for me), and to see if someone is just having a better day... We feel for others in the world of writing: we share emotions with these strangers who are miles, states, countries and worlds apart from us.
I have a bunch of lurkers- why do you folks come here? I mean really-I never thought I was interesting enough for strangers to read my life saga daily but apparently some people out there want to know what wacky Lucy Ricardo thing I'm going to end up doing next.
We bloggers have formed a community and are forming bonds and friendships that can lead to anything from reading to comments to emails to phone calls to visits. Some even marry or find romance. Many bloggers meet each other for fun. Some people think blogging friendships are strange... I dunno, I think it just makes sense. The people in my blog world know as much, or maybe more, about me than my non-blogging friends. It seems like a safe place to be myself. I like this forum. I like it as a writer, as a blogger, and as me. The power of the pen is a force to be reckoned with.
Maggie
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
This was NOT the assignment
Every day I have all my students journal. because of the nature of these student and the fact that they LOVE to provide "too much information" about their personal lives, I try to pick journal topics that are non-personal. As a matter of fact, I bought this amazing book from Amazon for this purpose: Unjournaling: Daily Writing Exercises that Are NOT Personal, NOT Introspective, NOT Boring! It's a great book.
I write the journal topic on the board, with the date and the journal number. The students are just requite to date it, number it and do it,. They don't have to copy the assignment down and then do it. I just want"the answer". Some times it's listing, sometimes it's a paragraph, sometimes dialogue--- there are LOTS of wonderful options. It's not hard. Each journal is worth 5 points so at the end of the week, journals are worth 25 points. They do it, they get the points, they don't then the entry is a -5. Not tough at all. And I don't read every single entry. I skim. Sometimes I think it "looks" long enough and give them credit for that day. I might decide I'm going to read journal numbers 7 and 11 for period three and then give them credit for the others if it looks like they did it. Teacher prerogative and discretion and all that rot.
All of my classes do the same journal topic. It's not brain surgery. Their journals stay in the room. This is the way I start class. They write while I take attendance, record it in the computer, and then notify the office over my missing kids. It's a great way to kill 10 minutes of class for I can to that nonsense paperwork crap.
More importantly it's a good way to kick their brains into gear. I think it's important for students to write every single day, even if it is for 10 minutes. It will make them better writers, for them to think creatively, use some critical thinking skills in some cases, and it will improve their vocabs and hand writing.
Of course, 80% of the students hate this assignment.
Remember the student I wrote about last week and I named him Asshole? He really hates the journal assignments. He only attempted 2 of last week's 5 topics. Here is what he wrote for one of them:
I assure you, this had nothing to do with the topic at hand. I also have no idea what the last word is or mean: naugh. WTF?
Here's his other journal for the week:
Again, I can assure you, this was not the correct answer, by any stretch of the imagination, for the assigned topic of the day.
I wanted to write "fuck you, Asshole. Enjoy your big fat F in my class. The judge is going to love to see copies of this journal, and I plan on sending it to him." What I did instead was simply write "0/25 F" and moved on.
I also copied it and shared it with our Assistant Principal. The student was not in my class on Friday. Nor do I think he's going to be in my class again. Ever. If there is a God....
Mags
I write the journal topic on the board, with the date and the journal number. The students are just requite to date it, number it and do it,. They don't have to copy the assignment down and then do it. I just want"the answer". Some times it's listing, sometimes it's a paragraph, sometimes dialogue--- there are LOTS of wonderful options. It's not hard. Each journal is worth 5 points so at the end of the week, journals are worth 25 points. They do it, they get the points, they don't then the entry is a -5. Not tough at all. And I don't read every single entry. I skim. Sometimes I think it "looks" long enough and give them credit for that day. I might decide I'm going to read journal numbers 7 and 11 for period three and then give them credit for the others if it looks like they did it. Teacher prerogative and discretion and all that rot.
All of my classes do the same journal topic. It's not brain surgery. Their journals stay in the room. This is the way I start class. They write while I take attendance, record it in the computer, and then notify the office over my missing kids. It's a great way to kill 10 minutes of class for I can to that nonsense paperwork crap.
More importantly it's a good way to kick their brains into gear. I think it's important for students to write every single day, even if it is for 10 minutes. It will make them better writers, for them to think creatively, use some critical thinking skills in some cases, and it will improve their vocabs and hand writing.
Of course, 80% of the students hate this assignment.
Remember the student I wrote about last week and I named him Asshole? He really hates the journal assignments. He only attempted 2 of last week's 5 topics. Here is what he wrote for one of them:
I assure you, this had nothing to do with the topic at hand. I also have no idea what the last word is or mean: naugh. WTF?Here's his other journal for the week:
Again, I can assure you, this was not the correct answer, by any stretch of the imagination, for the assigned topic of the day.I wanted to write "fuck you, Asshole. Enjoy your big fat F in my class. The judge is going to love to see copies of this journal, and I plan on sending it to him." What I did instead was simply write "0/25 F" and moved on.
I also copied it and shared it with our Assistant Principal. The student was not in my class on Friday. Nor do I think he's going to be in my class again. Ever. If there is a God....
Mags
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
What mayhem and madness are afoot?
I used to teach college students Composition, Literature, and Public Speaking courses. One of the things I would do to start each day was require a daily writing. My assignments would vary. Sometimes I would give a quote on the board and ask for a response. Other times I could play a song, or ask for a descriptive writing piece. I would even give a stanza of poetry and a bit of modern day music lyrics and ask for a comparison. Other times I would just write some random gibberish on the board and ask for a reaction. Students kept all these assignments journal style and I would collect them over the period of the semester. I'd usually give about 10-15 minutes at the beginning of class and I would want a 5-7 sentence paragraph.
I loved to give quotes. At the beginning of the semester, while this was all new, students would struggle with what to write. I would give them very few parameters on these assignments, really. They would ask, "what does it mean?" or "what do you want me to write?" I would always smile my Cheshire cat grin and tell them that figuring it out was part of the assignment. That self discovery was part of the writing journey that could often lead to a creative power that was dispelled from the pen and forever imprinted on the paper.
Favorite quotes that always elicited interesting responses were:
1. "I've had a good time, but this wasn't it." Groucho Marx
2. "Success is the journey, not the destination." Arthur Ashe
3. "If you can't say something nice, come sit next to me." Mae West
It was fun to watch the students evolve in their writing.
The title of this posting was my all time favorite random writing to assign. I would do it in the later part of the semester. Students would stare at me like I have grown three heads, then whisper and murmur. They knew better than to ask me for any input. They would chew their pens. They would be whipping out dictionaries to see the definitions of "mayhem" and "afoot." When that light bulb clicked on, it was great to read what they developed. Sometimes this struck a poetry chord, other times it took the short story path. Most writings were of the autobiographical style, brief memoirs. They got into the spirit of the language. Usually entries were funny- I remember a great writing a male student about taking his girlfriend to buy shoes; I haven't laughed that hard in ages!
Now, I've tried quotes with high high school students when I was in the Wild West and I finally gave up, except in my honors class. No matter what quotes I used, the kids responses at that age, frankly, sucked. And you can bet your butt that I haven't even tried it with my Special Education 7th or 8th graders. Why torture them OR myself?
I am going to slip into teacher mode and ask you bloggers to please feel free to respond in the comment section here (or over at your own blog- and if you do at your own, please let me know so I can link and read), "what mayhem and madness are afoot?"
Happy writing,
Maggie
I loved to give quotes. At the beginning of the semester, while this was all new, students would struggle with what to write. I would give them very few parameters on these assignments, really. They would ask, "what does it mean?" or "what do you want me to write?" I would always smile my Cheshire cat grin and tell them that figuring it out was part of the assignment. That self discovery was part of the writing journey that could often lead to a creative power that was dispelled from the pen and forever imprinted on the paper.
Favorite quotes that always elicited interesting responses were:
1. "I've had a good time, but this wasn't it." Groucho Marx
2. "Success is the journey, not the destination." Arthur Ashe
3. "If you can't say something nice, come sit next to me." Mae West
It was fun to watch the students evolve in their writing.
The title of this posting was my all time favorite random writing to assign. I would do it in the later part of the semester. Students would stare at me like I have grown three heads, then whisper and murmur. They knew better than to ask me for any input. They would chew their pens. They would be whipping out dictionaries to see the definitions of "mayhem" and "afoot." When that light bulb clicked on, it was great to read what they developed. Sometimes this struck a poetry chord, other times it took the short story path. Most writings were of the autobiographical style, brief memoirs. They got into the spirit of the language. Usually entries were funny- I remember a great writing a male student about taking his girlfriend to buy shoes; I haven't laughed that hard in ages!
Now, I've tried quotes with high high school students when I was in the Wild West and I finally gave up, except in my honors class. No matter what quotes I used, the kids responses at that age, frankly, sucked. And you can bet your butt that I haven't even tried it with my Special Education 7th or 8th graders. Why torture them OR myself?
I am going to slip into teacher mode and ask you bloggers to please feel free to respond in the comment section here (or over at your own blog- and if you do at your own, please let me know so I can link and read), "what mayhem and madness are afoot?"
Happy writing,
Maggie
Monday, January 18, 2010
Mad for literature
When I took literature classes while working on my Master's degree (that I've not yet finished!) I had the pleasure of being able to take a class about women's literature. I loved the genre. I am not sure I am a huge subscriber to feminist literary theory, but I love the ideas behind Gothic horror, especially southern Gothic, and the themes that are prevalent in this type of women's literature. One of my favorite themes is the idea of madness. The Turn of the Screw, The Yellow Wallpaper, and The Haunting of Hill House all have strains of madness plaguing the central female characters.
In Perkin's Wallpaper, the main character is dealing with what we now call postpartum depression. Her doctor husband has locked her away in a summer home, away from her friends and family and new baby so she can heal. She isn't allowed to write or use her brain. She is participating in the Rest Cure, similar to what Mitchell Weir developed. The main character is in a room with ugly yellow wallpaper and she starts bonding with the wallpaper. Yeah, you read that right, becoming a friend with WALLPAPER! The end of the story finds the main character having gone mad, but who wouldn't have in her situation? I love this story. The other element of this story is that those who study this genre also ask: is she really at a summer home recuperating or has she been checked into a sanatorium? Did she go mad or did she find freedom at the end? And if she found freedom, what is she now free from? I don't want to give away the ending- you can read it and decide for yourself.
I like to read Turn of the Screw as a ghost story with the governess being driven mad. She sees ghosts and tends to evil children while residing in this huge Gothic mansion. There is a sexual psychological undertone to this horror story as the governess addresses the ghost; she knows she is going mad because she is the only one who can see the apparition and sense the evil in the small children. Henry James is a master at spinning the Gothic horror story.
Finally, in the Haunting of Hill House, the central character, a lonely woman, visits a haunted house and becomes possessed and is slowly driven mad by the odd and surreal hauntings taking place around her, even though she isn't alone.
The settings in all three stories are traditional Gothic horror- huge houses, lonely female characters, specters. But what I like most about each is that a debate can occur over whether or not the central women characters have really gone mad or not. Do they control their own madness? I think they do. Then I always wonder if we all control our own descent into madness. Can even those of us who function on what appears to be a normal level actually be dealing with madness? Or do we make it seem less threatening and more socially acceptable and call it depression or Bi-polar disorder? There are times when I would have gladly resided in a sanatorium, content to be filled with happy drugs to make me numb or to sleep a dreamless sleep. Does that make me mad, depressed, in need of a clinical diagnosis? I don't think so, but I love the idea of exploring the human psyche in comparison with the literary feminist Gothic horror type of madness.
If I were to make this a real "paper," I would provide more detail and explanation. Since I don't want to be accused of being a spoiler, I urge you to read the stories yourself and then form your own opinion. Think about the idea of madness and think about the descent into such. Draw your own conclusions. I'd love to know what you think.
Maybe Mad,
Maggie
In Perkin's Wallpaper, the main character is dealing with what we now call postpartum depression. Her doctor husband has locked her away in a summer home, away from her friends and family and new baby so she can heal. She isn't allowed to write or use her brain. She is participating in the Rest Cure, similar to what Mitchell Weir developed. The main character is in a room with ugly yellow wallpaper and she starts bonding with the wallpaper. Yeah, you read that right, becoming a friend with WALLPAPER! The end of the story finds the main character having gone mad, but who wouldn't have in her situation? I love this story. The other element of this story is that those who study this genre also ask: is she really at a summer home recuperating or has she been checked into a sanatorium? Did she go mad or did she find freedom at the end? And if she found freedom, what is she now free from? I don't want to give away the ending- you can read it and decide for yourself.
I like to read Turn of the Screw as a ghost story with the governess being driven mad. She sees ghosts and tends to evil children while residing in this huge Gothic mansion. There is a sexual psychological undertone to this horror story as the governess addresses the ghost; she knows she is going mad because she is the only one who can see the apparition and sense the evil in the small children. Henry James is a master at spinning the Gothic horror story.
Finally, in the Haunting of Hill House, the central character, a lonely woman, visits a haunted house and becomes possessed and is slowly driven mad by the odd and surreal hauntings taking place around her, even though she isn't alone.
The settings in all three stories are traditional Gothic horror- huge houses, lonely female characters, specters. But what I like most about each is that a debate can occur over whether or not the central women characters have really gone mad or not. Do they control their own madness? I think they do. Then I always wonder if we all control our own descent into madness. Can even those of us who function on what appears to be a normal level actually be dealing with madness? Or do we make it seem less threatening and more socially acceptable and call it depression or Bi-polar disorder? There are times when I would have gladly resided in a sanatorium, content to be filled with happy drugs to make me numb or to sleep a dreamless sleep. Does that make me mad, depressed, in need of a clinical diagnosis? I don't think so, but I love the idea of exploring the human psyche in comparison with the literary feminist Gothic horror type of madness.
If I were to make this a real "paper," I would provide more detail and explanation. Since I don't want to be accused of being a spoiler, I urge you to read the stories yourself and then form your own opinion. Think about the idea of madness and think about the descent into such. Draw your own conclusions. I'd love to know what you think.
Maybe Mad,
Maggie
Saturday, January 16, 2010
The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword
A pen. A mere writing implement. A pen and what it can do... a simple devise but the power it welds is amazing. A pen is so important that banks and other government offices chain them to desks and counters. Students take notes with a pen.
A simple pen. Did you know Anne Frank considered her pen her best friend, since she could use it to write in her infamous diary and record all her thoughts and dreams, her fears and desires? She even called her pen a Special Friend and wrote an ode to the pen in her diary.
A pen is also used in the one of my favorite movies of all times, Say Anything. Diane Court gave Lloyd Dobbler a pen when she broke up with him and later in the film he said,, "I gave her my heart and she gave me a pen." And in the next to last scene of the movie, Diane gives her father, who is in prison, a pen and tells him to write to her.
A pen can be simple or fancy. Johnny Depp is one of the spokesmen for Mont Blanc, a fountain pen that can cost hundreds of dollars used by the rich, famous and powerful. There are stick Bic pens that are 10 for $1. There's my favorite pens which are Pilot V Razor Points, an 8 pack in a variety of colors for $10.
The pen makes everyone equal. It can be a poison pen or a kind one. Think of the quill and ink that Shakespeare used to scribe all his famous plays and poems. Anyone can scratch a list on a napkin or paper sack, address an envelope, write a letter or in a journal, or sign a contract. Pens can be used by a jailhouse lawyer to write out pleas, the famous authors can scribe the Great American Novel, or even the most common of us can write a poem, or record a whimsical thought while gazing out a window.
History has been recorded because of the power of the pen. The pen allowed soldiers to send thoughts and emotions across oceans and countries, carrying their thoughts and fears and news on the front. And those back home could send thoughts and prayers and well wishes in return. There are books of letters from soldier and those at home collected together... letters that survived as pen to paper thoughts, still recorded for all because of the magic ability to commit words to paper. Love letters between Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon, and Napoleon and Josephine have survived hundreds of years, letting us, even now, in on their romance. Oral tradition was replaced by the written word and ideas melted onto paper as the words flowed.
And now, we have computers, technology. The keyboard is replacing the beloved pen, the former best friend of the writer. Out with the old and in with the new... and now many say good bye to the beloved pen. But not me. I keep my trusty pen with me. While enjoy using my keyboard, my pen will be my own forever friend...
Pen in hand,
Maggie
A simple pen. Did you know Anne Frank considered her pen her best friend, since she could use it to write in her infamous diary and record all her thoughts and dreams, her fears and desires? She even called her pen a Special Friend and wrote an ode to the pen in her diary.
A pen is also used in the one of my favorite movies of all times, Say Anything. Diane Court gave Lloyd Dobbler a pen when she broke up with him and later in the film he said,, "I gave her my heart and she gave me a pen." And in the next to last scene of the movie, Diane gives her father, who is in prison, a pen and tells him to write to her.
A pen can be simple or fancy. Johnny Depp is one of the spokesmen for Mont Blanc, a fountain pen that can cost hundreds of dollars used by the rich, famous and powerful. There are stick Bic pens that are 10 for $1. There's my favorite pens which are Pilot V Razor Points, an 8 pack in a variety of colors for $10.
The pen makes everyone equal. It can be a poison pen or a kind one. Think of the quill and ink that Shakespeare used to scribe all his famous plays and poems. Anyone can scratch a list on a napkin or paper sack, address an envelope, write a letter or in a journal, or sign a contract. Pens can be used by a jailhouse lawyer to write out pleas, the famous authors can scribe the Great American Novel, or even the most common of us can write a poem, or record a whimsical thought while gazing out a window.
History has been recorded because of the power of the pen. The pen allowed soldiers to send thoughts and emotions across oceans and countries, carrying their thoughts and fears and news on the front. And those back home could send thoughts and prayers and well wishes in return. There are books of letters from soldier and those at home collected together... letters that survived as pen to paper thoughts, still recorded for all because of the magic ability to commit words to paper. Love letters between Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon, and Napoleon and Josephine have survived hundreds of years, letting us, even now, in on their romance. Oral tradition was replaced by the written word and ideas melted onto paper as the words flowed.
And now, we have computers, technology. The keyboard is replacing the beloved pen, the former best friend of the writer. Out with the old and in with the new... and now many say good bye to the beloved pen. But not me. I keep my trusty pen with me. While enjoy using my keyboard, my pen will be my own forever friend...
Pen in hand,
Maggie
Friday, October 30, 2009
Consider this a PSA, or a call out to all bloggers!
There's a whole web site dedicated to blogging every day, NaBloPoMo. I don't know all the details but I've been poking around on their web site and you can register and follow their suggestions and a whole lot of other stuff.
But, one important thing I do know: according to the web site, next month is Blog Every Damn Day of the month, or something like that. It's a challenge to all bloggers to blog every day in the month of November. You can even register at the site.
I blog every day. I think this year, so far to date, I've not blogged 1 day- I think. Anyway, I've decided to dedicate myself to blogging every day in November, to just keep on doing what I do. I even went so far as to make a list of possible blog topics that I'll write about this month (and of course ya'll can feel free to comment if there's something you want to hear about sooner rather than later) like:
Blog baby blog! Blogger inferno,
Maggie Mae
But, one important thing I do know: according to the web site, next month is Blog Every Damn Day of the month, or something like that. It's a challenge to all bloggers to blog every day in the month of November. You can even register at the site.
I blog every day. I think this year, so far to date, I've not blogged 1 day- I think. Anyway, I've decided to dedicate myself to blogging every day in November, to just keep on doing what I do. I even went so far as to make a list of possible blog topics that I'll write about this month (and of course ya'll can feel free to comment if there's something you want to hear about sooner rather than later) like:
- libraries
- what it was like to visit my Grammy in southern Kentucky
- I love magazines
- why you need to have a good sense humor to be a substitute teacher
- fun with death
- movies I want to see and why
- obsession I have with hats
- the first ever, first time, super special Maggie Giveaway
- a blogging scavenger hunt
- why to do lists are depressing rather than fun
- Planned Parenthood
- dead celebrities
Blog baby blog! Blogger inferno,
Maggie Mae
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Been reading them forever and can't stop- they're like crack!
Okay, I have two women bloggers whom I have been reading for a long time and I love these ladies. They are completely diverse blogs from each other, but both are appealing and delightful.
Phishez is my gal-pal from down under, and her blog is Does this crown come in bubble wrap? She is raw. She is a single girl and is sexually liberated and I love her stories and misadventures. She sprinkles her posts with her pictures, she's an animal lover, and she is one hot woman who is living life! I would love to meet her!
Then there's Tense Teacher. She's a high school English teacher and she is tense- aren't all HS teachers a bit tense, really? Don't they deserve to be? She is sometimes quirky. Once in awhile neurotic. But she is funny. She is married to the greatest guy ever (Geek) and has the sweetest daughter ever. Tense Teacher lives in the south, she loves her laptop and her new phone. She loves words and is serious about her teaching and has a great outlook on life. She's not afaird to question, to ponder, to pout, to tempertantrum, to give a yell, a hoot and a hollar. Smart woman, a reader, and her words are great! (Hell once in awhile I look up a word she used when writing- now I LOVE that in a blogger!) So Tense Teacher is a grand 30something lady!
Read 'em:
Does this crown come in bubble wrap?
Tense Teacher
Phishez is my gal-pal from down under, and her blog is Does this crown come in bubble wrap? She is raw. She is a single girl and is sexually liberated and I love her stories and misadventures. She sprinkles her posts with her pictures, she's an animal lover, and she is one hot woman who is living life! I would love to meet her!
Then there's Tense Teacher. She's a high school English teacher and she is tense- aren't all HS teachers a bit tense, really? Don't they deserve to be? She is sometimes quirky. Once in awhile neurotic. But she is funny. She is married to the greatest guy ever (Geek) and has the sweetest daughter ever. Tense Teacher lives in the south, she loves her laptop and her new phone. She loves words and is serious about her teaching and has a great outlook on life. She's not afaird to question, to ponder, to pout, to tempertantrum, to give a yell, a hoot and a hollar. Smart woman, a reader, and her words are great! (Hell once in awhile I look up a word she used when writing- now I LOVE that in a blogger!) So Tense Teacher is a grand 30something lady!
Read 'em:
Does this crown come in bubble wrap?
Tense Teacher
Friday, March 13, 2009
Smart woman, smart blogger
Bragger is one of my favourite bloggers ever. She is a smart lady- teaches HS and college English. She exercises. She's wicked funny and I adore her vocabulary. I know when I visit Bragger I always laugh out loud. I find myself reading parts of her post to Daddy-O and we are both cracking up.
Since I taught not so very long ago (and blogged about that life under a different pseudonym and blog title back in the day) I can related to her "teaching" stories. Her wit is smart and clever. She's a reader and i enjoy checking out her book selection. And this woman is so totally kickass that we emailed each other di-rectly and she sent me the Moonlighting episode of "taming of the shrew" so I could use it when I taught.
i love her insights on life and how she is willing to share. I like how she can take the mundane and make it interesting and funny.
Read Bragger! I had to brag about her because she is so great... Oh, geez, you knew I was going to say it as some point, so go call the pun police... After you read Bragger!
Since I taught not so very long ago (and blogged about that life under a different pseudonym and blog title back in the day) I can related to her "teaching" stories. Her wit is smart and clever. She's a reader and i enjoy checking out her book selection. And this woman is so totally kickass that we emailed each other di-rectly and she sent me the Moonlighting episode of "taming of the shrew" so I could use it when I taught.
i love her insights on life and how she is willing to share. I like how she can take the mundane and make it interesting and funny.
Read Bragger! I had to brag about her because she is so great... Oh, geez, you knew I was going to say it as some point, so go call the pun police... After you read Bragger!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Another great blog to visit
I always say I was born in the wrong region of the country and claim I'm really a Southern belle stuck in with all the Yankees... well lemme tell you all- Puttin' On the G.R.I.T.S. is the real thing- and she is HIL-arious. I want to be her when I grow up.
I have no idea where I stumbled on her blog, but goshdarnitall, I am sooooo glad I did. She tells it like it is, cuts straight through the bullhockey and is blunt honest. She makes me laugh out loud- and she often gives little shopping tips which you know I just love.
Vist Puttin' on the G.R.I.T.S. And isn't that just the greatest blog name ever???????
I have no idea where I stumbled on her blog, but goshdarnitall, I am sooooo glad I did. She tells it like it is, cuts straight through the bullhockey and is blunt honest. She makes me laugh out loud- and she often gives little shopping tips which you know I just love.
Vist Puttin' on the G.R.I.T.S. And isn't that just the greatest blog name ever???????
Saturday, March 7, 2009
A new favourite blogger!
While I'm in Ireland I thought I would tell you about another blogger who is amazing: Running in Stilettos. This girl is greeeeeeee-aaaaaaaaat!
She is witty and smart- and beautiful. Her writing is flavorful and intelligent. And with a title like that, how could I just not love love love her? Really!?!
She is madly in love, like a newlywed, to her marine hunny. She is outspoken and silly, sweet and sassy. You better expect a smart woman, and not just fluff from this southern girl-- I love her blog and am so delight to have found Running In Stilettos, so I suggest that you all check her out, too.
Enjoy!
She is witty and smart- and beautiful. Her writing is flavorful and intelligent. And with a title like that, how could I just not love love love her? Really!?!
She is madly in love, like a newlywed, to her marine hunny. She is outspoken and silly, sweet and sassy. You better expect a smart woman, and not just fluff from this southern girl-- I love her blog and am so delight to have found Running In Stilettos, so I suggest that you all check her out, too.
Enjoy!
*Check out my Ireland trip at Across the Pond...
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