{teatime}

The lovely Mrs. Clare Asper of Come Further Up has a weekly post called {teatime} where she discusses the sorts of things friends do discuss over tea.  Yesterday she tried something new - a video format!  As soon as I saw her video I knew I had to make one too, so, a new youtube account (with a nom-de-plume), some slow processing, a bout of crippling stage-fright, and many venomous thoughts towards Google later, it was done.  Now I can't get it to come up in the video box here on my blog, so I'm afraid I'll just have to give a link.  I do apologize.

http://youtu.be/U61u-uiBrV4

I do ramble a little, and a few times I totally could not figure out how to phrase what I was trying to say.  But I enjoyed the experience, and I'm looking forward to next time Clare has a teatime video!

Novels and Why I Won't Write Them

I was told today that I should write a novel. I have absolutely no expectation of doing anything of the sort, but I do rather miss the thrill of writing, the feeling of a story flowing out of me and onto the page, sitting in one spot for hours and then emerging from the screen like a diver coming out of the sea. My writing is an uncertain and undirected thing, but, no matter its flaws, it can be so vivid to me that I think it actually happened. I have, while doing something completely innocuous, had an image flash through my head which I could not place, and after trying to remember for some while when it happened, realize that it was simply something I imagined for a story. 

But I cannot write a novel. I am not humble enough. I would want it to be real and fantastical, beautiful and painful, true and subtle. And if it fell short (which it inevitably would), I would give it up in frustration. I do not even know that I am capable of writing a worthless novel. My imagination is very useful for scenes and impressions, but I cannot sustain it for the length of a book. I cannot draw the reader in and capture him or her, not letting go until the last page. At least, I do not think I could. We never really know what we're capable of, do we?

I am much more comfortable with nonfiction. Nonfiction, whether it be about facts, or ideas, or feelings, is limited and safe. If I write about myself, I am limited by what I am; if I write about an event, I am limited by its duration; if I write to inform, I am limited by what I know. Fiction is an an endless expanse of nothing just waiting for someone to take some of it and craft it into a limitless variety of details and personalities and storylines. Perhaps fiction is simply a higher art than nonfiction. When God created the world, He created, in a manner of speaking, a work of fiction. That is not to say that it wasn't (and isn't) real: it's as real as anything material can be. But insofar as God created something where before there was nothing, something detailed and linear and complete, with original characters and plot and settings, He created a novel – a beautiful, terrible, fantastical fairy tale. And all the tales that came after are simply shadows of the one real story – the story that each and every one of us, from Adam to the Apocalypse, is part of. And that is why novel-writing is beyond me: it is too large and terrifying a task for my puny talents. I shall stick to writing about novels (among other things), for the present, and perhaps, in five years, or ten, or thirty, I may find myself capable. Or perhaps not, and that's all right too. Novels are not the only form of beauty we humans can create. There are so many, and we must each simply find which one is meant for us.

All images via tumblr.

In Which I Drown You In My Indifferent Graphics

You all probably know that I enjoy making graphics and that I'm not specially good at them.  Well, I've been making a ton, especially since school ended, and I do believe I've gotten a little bit better.  I thought you might like to see some of what I've done -- I know I always like to see others' graphics.  I can always learn something from them.
Oh yes -- feel free to use them, they're mostly not watermarked so credit if you like, if not I don't really care.  I never really understood the whole DON'T STEAL MY WORK thing that much.... as long as you're not selling it, why fuss?  It's just a digital image.

All my images are made with one of three photo-editors: iPiccy, PicMonkey, and Pixlr.  (Why do they always have to have rather silly names?)  They're each good for different things, so sometimes I'll use all three in one image.

First come the ones that can be used as desktop backgrounds.  I tire of desktops quickly, and so make a lot of new ones. If you use one, be aware that sometimes I don't measure the ratios right and then they're a bit too long or too short - also, mine are made for a 16:9 screen.

This was my first try-out of iPiccy, and I was quite proud of it, though I have since decided that it's not as wonderful as I at first thought.  The battle-cry of the Cristeros has always inspired me - I used to write it on the inside covers of my school notebooks, and it would make me feel very brave and ready for battle - a sentiment often necessary for the completion of math exercises -- or English essays -- or French exams. 

Despite my love of quotes, I always draw a blank when I go to make a graphic, hence the generally famous quotes I use.  I would much prefer obscure quotes, as I prefer most anything obscure, but when the time comes I never remember what I wanted to use.  I rather like this particular image, and surprisingly it took very little time.

I think a desktop for purity, strictly speaking, ought to contain more light and brightness than this does, and I couldn't find an image of a lily (symbol of purity) that worked, but other than that I am rather fond of this one.

If you couldn't tell, this image was the result of my love-affair with The Ballad of the White Horse.  The watermark is there because I posted it on Tumblr, and didn't save a non-watermarked version.
I know the stanza I chose sounds depressing, but I just love it because Our Lady gives Alfred no comfort and tells him that things are just gonna get worse, and yet he still gains strength to fight back that he didn't have before.  I haven't explained it well, but it's just such a delicious oxymoron to me, and before I read the poem, I had never thought of Christianity as journeying "gaily in the dark."  It's just a beautiful idea, and this little snippet reminds me of it when I'd rather "spell the stars/And times and triumphs mark" than be going gaily in the dark.
Perhaps I should not talk about my love-affair with this poem in the past tense.

The rest of these are not strictly desktops, though they can be used as such if you don't mind the not fitting.

 

This was the result of studying "Elegy in a Country Courtyard" and reflecting on how much wailing and keening and rolling in melancholy poets do.  "Fell in love with melancholy" indeed.  I don't know if you can even read all the quotes.  It was an exercise in trying out a slightly different style, and I'm still not sure what I think about it.

My mom wrote out this quote for me instead of giving me a lecture -- and it worked.

These words are from a poem by a Catholic author named Joseph Mary Plunkett about how everything in nature reminds him of Our Lord.  It's a beautiful poem, and this line especially caught my fancy.  One of the many pictures I have taken of the ocean from Virginia Beach and the Outer Banks worked perfectly as the backdrop.

The background in this graphic is a photo taken by me at Round Top, NY, when I visited the convent there. The quote is from the Regina Spektor song "The Call."  Another instance of me trying out a different style.

Well, I do believe that's enough for now.  If you made it to the end of this post without skimming and skipping...thank you.  If not, I totally don't blame you.

Tell me, do you have any tips for me? Questions?  General comments?  You know I'd love to hear them.

Things Learned

Having come across this post by Raewyn while lazing about reading other people's posts when I was supposed to be writing my own, I thought I'd join in on this "things learned in August" link-up, because I have learned a lot of things in August, both important and very non-important.  I am also supremely glad that it will be over tomorrow, so I'm celebrating.  Visit the original post here.

1. I was not meant to join the Daughters of Mary.  I was following my own will in pursuing it, not God's.

2.  You actually have to work to be holy, and you don't get to just choose to not be.  And you can't do anything by yourself but need God's grace if you're going to have any strength at all.  It's like expecting to have energy without ever eating.

3.  Speaking of eating, I also learned that pesto paninis are the best Friday dinner ever. All you do is put provolone, pesto, red onions, tomatoes, avocado, and red or orange bell peppers in a roll and stick it in a buttered pan or panini press until it's browned and melty and beautiful.  Then you eat it.  And it's delicious.

4.  I am super-duper unbelievably lucky to know two people who love literature at least as much as I do, and I am even more blessed to be being paid by one of them to listen to some absolutely lovely literature lectures and write about them.  It's temporary, but it's my first job and a dream job - one I never dreamed of, but a dream job nevertheless.  The other person is subjected to small bursts of email-ranting on Dickinson, Tolkien, Dickens, and the like, and far from objecting, responds in kind.

5.  Speaking of literature, I learned through the aforementioned lectures that Emily Dickinson is basically queen of the poetical universe.  She is definitely my favorite poet now.

6.  Sleeping in is way overrated.  Enough said.

7.  Bringing up authors again, one biggish thing I've learned in August is that spiritual reading is actually...not painful.  I've read a ton of religious books (partly because the only way I can make myself behave remotely well is to constantly remind myself by reading), and the most eye-opening spiritual book I've read this month was definitely The Life of Saint Teresa of Avila -- her autobiography. (Note: I have not read the version in the link and don't know if it's altered or a weird translation or anything, so don't blame me if it is.)  That book is just -- stunning.

8.  I am not cut out for being a stay-at-home daughter.  I have always been an independent person and I always told my mom I'd move out as soon as I turned eighteen.  That's not exactly happening, but I'm still joining a convent as soon as I find one, so hopefully I will still move out when I'm eighteen.  I never had any desire to be a stay-at-home daughter, and having finished school and being "almost grown-up" has just intensified that opinion. 

9.  I love English country dancing/square dancing.  I knew this already, but an impromptu, music-less lesson in the park by one of the girls from church a few weeks ago reminded me.   I don't know what it is about it, but it's so much fun.

10.  I am an autumn girl, and there's nothing I can do about it.  I was born in October, but I always insisted that I liked summer best.  And while I do like summer, it's always tainted by air conditioning and boredom and (up till now) the stress of overdue schoolwork.  The *idea* of summer is still my favorite, but in the real world, fall is best - the part that still above 45 degrees, that is.  I am looking forward to the cooler weather.

T.S. Eliot - Murder in the Cathedral

Murder in the Cathedral was my last reading assignment in English and my first exposure to T.S. Eliot - and wow.  I just wandered around like a zombie after finishing it because I just could not straighten out what I thought of it.  I liked it but I hated it, it was perfect but it was awful.  In short, it was a very conflicting play.  I get the feeling that most of Eliot's work is like this.

Naturally, the plot was very good, but as it is a true story, that is to be expected,  (For those who have no idea what the play is about, it's the tale of the murder of St. Thomas à Becket in Canterbury Cathedral.)  The atmosphere is what really got to me, though.  It was depressing and just really, really dark for most of the play.  I think it's just one of those books that you know is good, but is not comfortable, if that makes sense.  (Sort of like Gone with the Wind.) It's enjoyable, but one of those things you can't stay immersed in for too long.
The poetry has a strong cadence and almost reads like music; I love strong rhythms in poetry so I definitely appreciated that.  Especially in plays or epic poems a prominent rhythm is important, I think, because it makes it easier to get through the often unfamiliar experience of reading a story set in poetry rather than prose.
Now, many of us know that Eliot is often considered one of the fathers of modern poetry.  I, personally, am not fond of most modern poetry.  Therefore I had rather a bias against the man, fair or not; but while I could see that modernity and how it could have influenced poetry today, it didn't bother me too much - it was still very good.  Because of the leaning towards modern poetry, the lines are simpler, direct, and strikingly forceful.  BUT.  One can feel the taint of  it, not only in the poetry itself but in the overall feeling of the work.  If you pay attention when you read or listen to music you will probably know the feeling of modernity: a sort of empty, despairing taste it leaves in your mouth. It is well-mixed with other elements in Murder in the Cathedral and so was not so overwhelming, but I still detected its presence.

Now, the Chorus.  I usually don't really understand choruses in general (in plays, I mean), but this one takes the cake.  It's made up of the Women of Canterbury, and they seem a pretty miserable lot.  Also, I can't imagine how their lines are supposed to be said in a performance - are they supposed to be said naturally, or sort of chanted?  Especially since it's a whole group of women... If by chance their lines were chanted, it would make a pretty creepifying spectacle, because they provide a lot of the darkness of the play.  Imagine a group of female voices in unison, sort of deadpan-chanting the following lines:  
The agents of hell disappear, the human, they shrink and dissolve,

Into dust on the wind, forgotten, unmemorable; only is here

The white flat face of Death, God's silent servant,

And behind the face of Death the Judgement

And behind the Judgement the Void, more horrid than active shapes of hell;

Emptiness, absence, separation from God; 

The horror of the effortless journey, to the empty land,

Which is no land, emptiness, absence, the Void. 

I'll say this for Eliot: he knew how to create emotions. Only, the emotions he creates are mostly negative, like terror and fear and despair, so no credit for him, really.  Flipping through the book to find that passage, I found a word to describe the element combating the dreariness of modernity: richness.  Eliot's writing has a richness which, though not at all like the color-drenched richness of Chesterton or the spiritual richness of St. Teresa, is essential to the impact his poetry makes, and saves it from being entirely modern.  Modern poetry is generally too concerned with being abstract and pressing the "enter" button as much as possible to have any element of richness.

And do note that I chose the most depressing lines I could find to highlight my point in that excerpt.  There is much heroism and even beauty in the play, being as it is a very Catholic story, though T.S. Eliot himself was not a Catholic, as far as I know.  I find the interest of secular writers in Catholic martyrdom very intriguing - you have this, A Man for All Seasons, various movies made about St. Joan of Arc over the years, etc.  Perhaps it is simply the sensational element in martyrdom that appeals to them, but I like to believe it is something deeper. The Catholicity in Murder in the Cathedral is strongly present, from the perfectly-handled Tempters (and Thomas' refutation of them) to the lines of the Dies Irae in the Chorus to the Archbishop's last words: Now to Almighty God, to the Blesssed Mary ever Virgin, to the blessed John the Baptist, the holy apostles Peter and Paul, to the blessed martyr Denys, and to all the Saints, I commend my cause and that of the Church.

 It is a very true play, and is certainly worth taking the time to read.  It's a lot to process - so sorry if I have rambled unnecessarily here, especially about modern poetry!  As you may see, I have still not entirely made up my mind about it, though I am recommending it.  If you have read it, tell me about it so that we can discuss its relative merits and demerits.  It's the sort of book that must be discussed to be understood properly, I believe.

Recommended for ages 16+, unless you are especially mature. No star rating because I just can't decide!

The Great Tolkien Debate

via tumblr

I've spent the last half-hour reading Christopher Tolkien's opinion on the LOTR movies, and then a bunch of comments.  [Note: if you don't want your faith in humanity destroyed, don't read comments.  Ever.]  So now of course I've got to give my opinion.

First, to the commenters (who obviously aren't reading this...): have some respect.  Christopher Tolkien was extremely close to his father and made maps, advised, and acted as his copyist for years.  The man knows what he's talking about.  He's the next-best thing to having Tolkien himself available for criticism.  (Tolkien père would probably have been much more communicative and explanatory, but that's beside the point.)  And Christopher Tolkien is eighty-seven years old.  You can't expect him to be either active in the LOTR phenomenon or accepting of changes to his father's beloved work.

At any rate, in principle I agree with Christopher Tolkien.  There is a great "chasm between the beauty and seriousness of the work, and what it has become."  The changes and many of the choices made by Peter Jackson do make a Tolkien purist, or anyone who understands his vision of his works, cringe.   

However.  First of all, one cannot expect perfection, least of all from Hollywood. Also, there is a huge gap between the culture of the era in which the books were written (and hence Christopher Tolkien's era) and modern culture of the era in which the films are made. I think it would probably be literally impossible to make a film that grasped Tolkien's ideas, was accurate as to characterization and events, was stylistically accurate, and didn't leave anything out.  Peter Jackson is guilty on multiple counts, but he did get some things right - sometimes amazingly right.  Considering what he was up against, he did a fairly good job.  Sometimes.  Agh, I don't know.  It is very confusing.  And I actually haven't even seen The Return of the King.  Anyway, what I wanted to say is that the films, in and of themselves, are gorgeous, glorious works of fantasy.  It's just when you compare them to the books that you run into issues.  But of course, every bookworm knows the maxim that the book is always better than the movie.
 (Note: now I feel a slight bit guilty for my positive-ish review of The Hobbit.)

So yes, Christopher Tolkien is right in condemning the film franchise's deviations, but I think that if you realize that the films are flawed (and make sure you don't get too wrapped up in them), you're fine.

Just in case anyone was wondering, yes, I have had a slight (oh, very slight) relapse into active Tolkien fangirling.  It has to do with reading The Silmarillion and seeing a certain independent film which I shall post about another time.

So, comment and give me your opinion on the LOTR books-vs-movies debate.  I love to discuss these things and hear others' opinions.

"Do you have joy without a cause, yea, faith without a hope?"

Once again, this is a post which I began some time ago and never finished.  I am no longer writing the essay in question - it has long since been graded, and I got an A, so you should listen to me when I talk about it.

The eponymous White Horse. (via google images)

 
I am continuing my time-honored tradition of procrastinating on English essays by writing about the subject of the essay here on my blog.  (See here, here, here, and here.)  It's like a passive-aggressive reaction or something.  I dunno.

This time the essay - and thus the blog post - is about my favorite epic poem in the history of ever - namely, The Ballad of the White Horse.  What's so great about it, you ask? Well, first and foremost, IT'S CHESTERTON.  I have about as much respect for him as I do for Tolkien, though in rather different ways.  Chesterton's intellect is intimidating, but that doesn't mean he's difficult and boring.  Au contraire.  His writing is the most hilarious, colorful, gorgeous thing that you can imagine.  But anyway, back to the the Ballad.  Just in case you don't really know or "get" what it's about, I'll give you a bit of a synopsis. 

The Ballad of the White Horse is the tale of King Alfred the Great of England and his battle against the Danish invaders in the ninth century.  On a greater scale, however, it is the endless story of the struggle betwixt good and evil, Christian and pagan.  Religion, history, legend, and myth blend seamlessly into an epic poem deserving of the name.

There.  Publishers should totally employ me to write their blurbs.

Really, I hardly know what else to say.  Does that every happen to you, where you like something so much that you don't know what to say about it? Maybe not.

I suppose the best thing is to let it speak for itself.  Here's my favorite part, which also happens to be the most famous, thanks in part to a certain Regina Doman, whose novel The Shadow of the Bear included the first stanza about the Men of the East.  That was actually the way I was introduced to the poem, and as it is quite lovely, it sparked my interest, so thank you, Mrs. Doman.

To give you some background, this is Our Lady speaking to King Alfred in a vision.

"The gates of heaven are lightly locked,

We do not guard our gold,

Men may uproot where worlds begin,

Or read the name of the nameless sin;

But if he fail or if he win

To no good man is told.

"The men of the East may spell the stars,

And times and triumphs mark,

But the men signed of the cross of Christ

Go gaily in the dark.

"The men of the East may search the scrolls

For sure fates and fame,

But the men that drink the blood of God

Go singing to their shame.

"The wise men know what wicked things

Are written on the sky,

They trim sad lamps, they touch sad strings,

Hearing the heavy purple wings,

Where the forgotten seraph kings

Still plot how God shall die.

"The wise men know all evil things

Under the twisted trees,

Where the perverse in pleasure pine

And men are weary of green wine

And sick of crimson seas.

"But you and all the kind of Christ

Are ignorant and brave,

And you have wars you hardly win

And souls you hardly save.

"I tell you naught for your comfort,

Yea, naught for your desire,

Save that the sky grows darker yet

And the sea rises higher.

"Night shall be thrice night over you,

And heaven an iron cope.

Do you have joy without a cause,

Yea, faith without a hope?"

Isn't it just lovely?  Maybe it's just me, but I think it makes you feel very strong and fearless, like you could withstand anything in the strength of the Faith .  I don't know why.  Paradoxes (like "joy without a cause" and "faith without a hope") just really appeal to me.

Now to make this a proper book review.  I give it 5 out of 5 stars, suitable for....erm, anyone who can understand it, really.  In general, I'd say highschool level.

Have you read The Ballad of the White Horse? (If you haven't, go get it now.  You can read it on Project Gutenberg here, if you like.) What did you think of it, if you did read it?  And have you read any of Regina Doman's books?

Appreciating Persuasion

So a couple days ago I got to thinking about Jane Austen's "most mature" novel, Persuasion, and I realized that I've really changed towards the story since I first read it five years ago.  When I first read it, I thought it was a bit boring (FORGIVE ME, I WAS TWELVE) - it’s a  story about an introverted, very-old-to-preteen-me, not necessarily pretty woman whom everyone walks all over and treats like dirt.  Basically, Cinderella with no mice or pumpkins or princes who instantly fall in love with you even though they’ve never seen you before.  Ahem. The film adaptation had none of the wit and sparkle of Pride and Prejudice and very little dialogue between the protagonists.  At the time I also thought both the book and the film to be very passionless and tame.
Now, over the years, I have developed a rule: if one does not appreciate a certain book, one must reread it over and over until he or she learns to appreciate it.  That’s what I did with Jane Eyre - but that’s another post - and that’s what I did with Persuasion.  And finally, on perhaps the third reading, I got it.  I learnt to admire Anne’s faithfulness and patience, got to understand Wentworth’s frustration with her (though for the first half of the book I still mentally shout at him that Anne loves him and he loves Anne and they need to just make it up already), understood the subtle (and the not-so-subtle) humor, appreciated the ongoing references to poetry and it’s effects on the temperament, and finally the book started playing in my head like a film, the way all good books do.  I got so into the “letter scene” that even now I can see it vividly in my imagination, just as I did when I read it.  I think for a while there I started to think that what Miss Austen was describing was happening to me.  My heartbeat quickened and I was in agonies for the few minutes it took to get and read the Captain’s letter.  This is how you know that a book is good.
As for the film, the second time I watched it, I payed more attention to the facial expressions and realized how talented the acting was, nearly everything conveyed in glances and stares.  (Of course, the scene where Anne runs down the streets like a hoyden still makes me want to throw things.)
This is probably going to sound cliché and stuck-up, but I really think Persuasion is just one of those books that takes some maturity and thoughtfulness to appreciate.  I’ll probably get even more out of it if I read it again when I’m more mature myself.
This has been your literary ramble of the day.  You’re welcome.

Tag: Classic Books, Tea, and Sandwiches

This is what happens when you're lazy. Your tags pile up like crazy and the nice people who tagged you probably think you're ignoring their niceness. Bad Victoria.  So I have four tags to do, but I'll be good and put them in separate posts.  Also, I uh... *cough*...I will not be following any rules.  At all.  On any of them.  (Well, aside from answering the questions, of course.)  Sorry.  Don't execute me, please.

First from Elizabeth at The Endless Road:

1. I have heard it said that some people  don't want to read classics because they are too long. Yet some of these same people read Harry Potter(and those are not short books). Do you think is really the length of the book, or something else? 
No, I do not think that it's the length of the book at all.  I think it's the level and style of the writing.  I have never read Harry Potter, and never mean to, but I've come across excerpts and I've seen the writing level.  It's not that hard.  (Not bashing - the books were written for kids, so they can be excused for being easy reading.)  Classics, on the other hand, often have advanced vocabularies, as well as unfamiliar colloquialisms and antiquated styles.  They're usually not action-oriented, and sometimes they have a sleep-inducing amount of description.  (Yes, Dickens, I am looking at you.)

2. If you could pick a dead author to talk to who would it be: Jane Austen, one of the Bronte sisters, Mark Twain, or Thomas Hardy? 
Jane Austen, hands down.  She seems like she must have been such a funny lady.  I've never read Hardy, I have a healthy dislike of Mark Twain, and the Brontes scare me.


3. Do you have a favorite board game? 
Hmm....not that I can think of.  I like Battleship, but that's not really a board game.  Do checkers count?  I like that.

4. Who is your favorite actor? And what is your favorite character they have played? 
I like Richard Armitage and David Tennant.  Richard Armitage's best role was, of course, Mr. Thornton in North & South, and David Tennant...he was brilliant as the Doctor, and I also really liked his rendition of Hamlet.

 5. Do you think being a fan of Jane Austen is becoming/is a fad?   
Among certain groups, perhaps.  To be honest, I don't know.  I don't care, if it makes more people read worthwhile books.

 6. We all pick out names that we like that we say we will name our children. What are some of yours? 
Um...I don't think I've ever done that, so I'll make something up now.  Let's see...well, if I had children, they'd all be named after saints.  I should like one daughter to be Rose, another Imelda, maybe Catherine as well.  For boys, Paul and William and maybe Thomas.  There, that wasn't too hard.

 7. Would you call yourself a morning person?
DEFINITELY NOT.  No way.  Don't get me wrong, I love the early, peaceful sorts of mornings, but those are few and far between and soon over.  In normal life, I'm basically miserable until two in the afternoon.

 8. Tea or Coffee? 
 Tea.  There was a time when I would have said "both," (see here to know what I'm like when I drink coffee), but now coffee makes me inexplicably sick, so I just drink tea.  Anyway, tea is more refined and British-y and, let's face it, it tastes better.  So I'm not too bummed out about not being able to drink coffee - unless my mom starts making puppydog faces at me when she needs a coffee-drinking companion again.  Who know that drinking coffee was a social activity, right?

 
 9. Have you come across a book where you liked the movie version better?
 Nobody kill me for saying this, but when I first saw Prince Caspian I decided that I liked it better than the book. *cringes*  I know, blasphemy.  Allow me to say, however, that I no longer hold this heretical position, and I can proudly say that I have never harbored such thoughts in regard to any other movie.

10. What is your favorite place to read a book? 
Well, the best place ever is the novices' recreation room at St. Joseph's Novitiate, but at home, the best is lying on my bed with the windows open (not during the winter) with a snack of some sort.  I have a terrible habit of eating and reading at the same time.

11. Do you have a food that you don't like, but everyone else does? 
Do you know, I don't believe that there is a food in existence that isn't disliked by someone.  In general, though....I am a bit particular, but I don't think I have any extraordinary dislikes. Ooh, but I don't like condiments on sandwiches and I have to have the cheese melted.  I guess that's a bit odd.

The Essence of Charity

A couple of days ago I came across an extra-beautiful meditation in the book Divine Intimacy, which, as you may remember, I have posted about before.   This one is about the essence of love of God, and I thought it was pretty amazing.  Some of it could apply to human love as well, I think, tying in with that one post I wrote about true love.  But, leaving that aside, it's just lovely.  Read and see:

Meditation 255: The Act of Love

p. 762-763

"To love a person is to desire his well-being.  We understand, therefore, that the essence of love is in the act of the will by which we wish good.  This does not take away from the fact that the act may often be accompanied by sensible affection, making our love both an act of the will and of the sensibility.  Nevertheless, it is clear that the substance of real love is not to be found in the emotions but in the act of the will.  Charity does not change our manner of loving, but penetrates it, supernaturalizes it, making the will and the sensibility capable of loving God.  Yes, even sensible affection can be engaged in the act of supernatural love; God does not despise this humbler and less lofty manifestation of our love for Him, because He has commanded us to love Him not only with our whole mind and our whole soul, but also with our whole heart.  All our powers---intellectual, volitive, and affective---are engaged in the act of love, and yet the substance of this act is not found in the feelings but in the will.  Therefore, when our emotions are cold in our love of God, and we "feel" nothing, there is no reason for us to be disturbed; we will find less satisfaction in our love---for it is much more peasant for us to feel that we are loving---but our act of love will be equally true and perfect.  Even more, lacking the impetus and pleasure which come from our feelings, we will be obliged to apply ourself more resolutely to the act of the will and this, far from harming it, will make it more voluntary, and therefore, more meritorious.  Precisely because the substance of love is in the act of the will that wishes good to God, in order to make our love purer and more intense, Our Lord will often deprive us of all consoling feelings; we will no longer feel that we love God---and this will give us pain---but in reality, we will love Him in the measure that we will with determination what He wills, and want His good pleasure and delight above all things.  Besides, it is not [always] in our power to feel love but it is always in our power to make voluntary acts of love; it is always in our power to wish good to God, striving with all our strength to live for Him and to please Him."

Photograph by me, edited with Picmonkey.

A Ramble-y Post on *The Scarlet Letter*

 People.  This book.  I thought I was going to hate it, but I don't.  It's full of interestingness and ideas and STUFF, which I will now proceed to ramble about.  Oh, and I must put out a major spoiler alert.  Don't say I didn't warn you.  You won't understand what I'm talking about, if you haven't read the book, by the way, because I'm not going to explain who or what I'm discussing.  I have to do that all the time in real life, and I very much dislike it.

First of all, The Scarlet Letter made me very grateful to be a Catholic.  Catholic confession would have been the saving of Dimmesdale!  He wouldn't have had to struggle with all that guilt and hypocrisy, because his sin would have been cleansed by the sacrament of Penance.  But no, he was a Puritan, and so he had to struggle with his guilt and try to avenge it on his own.  I do feel very, very sorry for him, even if he was a spineless jerk most of the time.  But shame is a horrible thing to bear.  It's not even explainable, it's so ghastly.  So I feel for Dimmesdale, and I wish I could hop in a TARDIS or something and bring him a Catholic priest.  (Do TARDISes go to fiction?  I'm not very well-versed in Who-ology.)  I did like that the author had confession (in a general way) be essential to Dimmesdale's redemption.  Hawthorne didn't just have him say "oh, in my heart I'm sorry for this, and that's all it takes so everything's fine now.  Glory hallelujah."  Also, the author didn't make excuses for the sin.  I mean, the whole book is about the consequences of a couple's adultery.

Random point #2: Pearl scares me.  I know she's supposed to be the living incarnation of her parents' sin and their punishment, but the girl is freaky.  You have no idea how relieved I was to find out that she was "humanized by sorrow" and eventually married and had a child.  I would have liked to see what she was like after her "transformation."  Too bad Nathaniel Hawthorne is dead.  A Pearl-centered sequel would have been interesting.

Speaking of weirdness, I was a bit confused by all the mentions of witchcraft.  Did Hawthorne mean to imply that all the flying about in the sky and whatnot actually happened, or was he just giving  the local opinions?  Very strange.

I found the characterization to be very good.  All the characters were three-dimensional: no one was  all good or all bad, yet the division between good and evil was very visible.  Even revengeful old Roger Chillingworth had his sympathetic moment in the beginning of the story, when he admits that he was wrong to marry Hester.   One almost feels sorry for him at that point.

Well, I'd better wrap this up.  It's nearly dinnertime and I'm too hungry to think anymore.  But I shall make this into a proper review by giving The Scarlet Letter 7 stars out of 10, a PG-13 movie-style rating (for mature themes), and recommending the book for readers age fifteen & up.

Note: I did not give the "mature readers"/"ordinary readers" distinction because once a reader is old enough for the mature themes, he/she is already old enough to be comfortable with the style.  Hope that makes sense. 

If you've read The Scarlet Letter, what did you think of it?  (Seton students, my eye is upon you.  I know you've read it because it's required for 11th-grade English, so I am expecting your comments.  Muahaha.)

*le post of randomness and pictures*

I can't help it.  I'm writing a semi-intellectual, very involved review of The Hunger Games for y'all, and the effort of thought has made my brain melt.  You have no idea how hard it is for my poor little mind to concentrate on one topic for so long.  So I am indulging myself.  Cause I like saying things that have nothing to do with anything.

There are two coffee cups in my room at the moment.  Do you think that means anything?

But coffee makes me sick as a dog sometimes.  Just sometimes.  Because my body is as random as I am.

Who came with the saying "sick as dog"?  Why not "sick as a parrot"?  Or even "sick as a cat", if you don't want to get all exotic?  People are discriminating against dogs here!

Tea is better than coffee.  Sometimes.

I got a shirt today.  And it's pink.  I, Victoria Annette, bought a pink shirt.  Shame on me.  But it's nice.

See?  This is it.

It's raining right now.  My room has a skylight window, and the rain drums on it and makes such a lovely cozy sound!  I do enjoy rain.

If there were such things as fairies, and they really were itty-bitty things, wouldn't a raindrop drown them?  I suppose they'd have to be very itty-bitty indeed.  You'd think it would at least make them uncomfortably wet.

I don't think I'd want to be a fairy.

They are pretty, though....

 I seem to have progressed from the hyper ADHD-ish state produced by coffee into the sluggish frame of mind which is the fate of those who consume stimulants.  Woe is me.

I like high-falutin', flowery sentences.  Which is why I like Shakespeare.

*fangirl squee*

I am totally going to buy The Taming of the Shrew and Much Ado about Nothing.  Those are my favorites, and nasty old Seton didn't include them in its Shakespeare course.  (I got a 91 on that course.  I was shooting for 100, but I guess it's not bad.)

I was in seventh heaven with that Shakespeare course.  I got to sit around and read during school hours, and the tests were mostly rather interesting.  I'd love to post some of the essay answers I wrote, but I wouldn't want people to cheat off me.  Do you think people would cheat off me?  I mean, it's not like I got a perfect score...

Does liking Shakespeare courses make me a total nerd?  I think, if taken in conjunction with my other characteristics. it doth.  Methinks I am a nerd.  It is awesome.  I've got reading glasses, too, you know.  And I love them and end up wearing them most of the time, because I'm always reading or using the computer or doing something else that requires glasses.

I like being a nerd.

*cough* I read in the dark...still do.

It's almost dinnertime.  I must flee to yonder shady grove dining-room table.

Well that was fun.  I'm sorry if it just annoyed you.  Think of pleasure I had in creating it and you'll feel better.  (By the way, I do cringe when I think of my dad reading this.  He always compliments my "thoughtful posts".  This is anything but.  Oh. and all the pictures are from the One and Only Pinterest and I don't own any of them and blah-de-blah.  I think I'm still hyper from the coffee after all.  And Shakespeare.  Cause Shakespeare makes me happy.

COFFFEEEEEEEEE.


The end.

Lenten Reflections, Pt. 3

Meditation 129: The Daily Cross

Meditation, p. 380

"He that taketh not up his cross, and followeth Me, is not worthy of Me" (Mt. 10, 38).  By these words, the divine Master expressly declares that one of the indispensable conditions for being Hid disciple is to carry the cross.  The word cross, however, should not make us think only of special sufferings, which, while not excluded, are not generally our portion.  First of all, we must think of those common daily disagreeable things which are part of everyone's life and which we must try to accept as so many means to progress and spiritual fruitfulness.

It is often easier to accept, in a burst of generosity, the great sacrifices and sufferings of singular occurence, than the little, insignificant sufferings, closely connected with our state in life and the fulfillment of our duty: sufferings which occur daily under the same form, with the same intensity and insistence, among endless and unchanging circumstances. [...] Herein lies the genuine cross that Jesus offers us daily, inviting us to carry it after Him - an unpretentious cross, which does not require great heroism, but which does demand that we repeat our Fiat every day, meekly bowing our shoulders to carry its weight with generosity and love.

via pinterest

Lenten Reflections, Pt. 2

I just finished reading the meditation for today (er....actually it was yesterday's, but that's beside the point), and I found it so striking that I had to come post it immediately. 

Again, those who struggle with scruples mightn't want to read this.

Meditation 110: Humiliations

Meditation, pp. 323-326

 Many souls would like to be humble, but few desire humiliation; many ask God to make them humble and fervently pray for this, but very few want to be humiliated.  Yet it is impossible to gain humility without humiliations; for just as studying is the way to acquire knowledge, so it is by the way of humiliation that we attain to humility.

Lily-of-the-Valley, the flower symbolizing humility.

Even if in certain situations we succeed in acting humbly,this may well be the result of a superficial and apparent humility rather than of a humility that is real and profound.  Humility is truth; therefore, let us tell ourselves that since we possess nothing ourselves but sin, it is but just that we receive only humiliation and scorn.  If we were really convinced of this truth, we would find it very just that all should humiliate us, treat us without consideration, and despise us.  In fact, what honor and consideration does one deserve who has offended his Creator, when a single sin - even a venial one - is more deplorable and worthy of more contempt than the most miserable earthly condition, the poorest and lowest estate? [...] "I never heard anything bad said of me," said St. Theresa of Jesus, "which I did not clearly realize fell short of the truth.  If I had not sometimes - often, indeed - offended God in the way they referred to, I had done so in many others, and I felt they had treated me far too indulgently in saying nothing about these". 

Also I'd like to share with you a short St. Therese quote, from the day before, speaking of humility and hope though we fail so much.

According to some sources, apple blossoms are a symbol of hope.

Meditation 109: Humility in Our Falls

Colloquy, p. 321

"O Jesus, it is true that I am not always faithful, but I never become discouraged, I cast myself into Your arms,and like a little dewdrop, I sink deeper and deeper int Your chalice, O divine Flower of the field, and there I find all I have lost and much more besides.

Yes, O my God, I am happy to feel little and weak in Your presence, and my heart remains in peace...I am glad to feel so imperfect and to need Your mercy so much!  When we calmly accept the humiliation of being imperfect, Your grace, O Lord, returns at once."

- St. Therese of the Child Jesus

All pictures via Pinterest.

Lenten Reflections, Pt. 1

Whenever I have time this Lent I'm going to attempt  to post excerpts from the wonderful book Divine Intimacy, which I have been attempting to read every day.  Before I begin I'd like to warn you, though: if you have struggles with scrupulosity you may not want to read the second excerpt.  This book was written for those consecrated to the religious life, and it's pretty darn strict.  It's wonderfully eye-opening, and it'll really make you rethink your priorities (talking about the whole book here, not just my excerpt), but the sheer amount of things we do all the time that we ought to avoid is just staggering, and it might be unhelpful if one is trying to conquer excessive scruples.  I'm not sure if I'm making myself entirely clear or not, but I believe you get the idea.

The excerpts I'd like to share today are on Love and Sin, respectively.  The first one is a quote from St. Therese of the Child Jesus.  It's a bit hard to tell who the quotes are from, sometimes, because the book always abbreviates the saint's names, but I'm sure of this one.  The style and imagery alone show it to be from the Little Flower.

Meditation 96: The Proof of Love

Colloquy, p. 284

"O my Beloved, how shall I show my love, since love proves itself by deeds? I have no other means of proving my love than to strew flowers, and these flowers will be each word and look, each little daily sacrifice.  I wish to make profit out of the smallest actions and to do them all for Love.  For Love's sake I wish to suffer and to rejoice: so shall I strew my flowers.  Not one that I see but, singing all the while. I will scatter its petals before You.  Should my roses be gathered from amid thorns, I will sing notwithstanding; and the longer and sharper the thorns, the sweeter will grow my song." 

Meditation 100: Sin
p. 294

If we wish to have a better understanding of the evil of mortal sin, we must consider its disastrous effects.  One single sin instantly changed Lucifer, the angel of light, into an angel of darkness, into the eternal enemy of God.  A single sin deprived Adam and Eve of the state of grace and friendship with God, taking away all their supernatural gifts and condemning them to death together with the rest of mankind. [...]  Jesus, our Head, invites us, His members, to unite with Him in His work of destroying sin: to destroy it in ourselves down to the very roots; that is, in our evil inclinations, and to destroy it likewise in His other members by allowing Him to work in us.  This is the law of solidarity, for the misfortune of one is the misfortune of the others; each sin is a burden on the whole word  and disturbs the equilibrium of God's plan.  Therefore, every Christian ... must throw himself ardently into the battle against sin and fight it with proper weapons: penance, expiatory prayer, and most of all, love.
 

 All pictures via my pinterest account.