Girly Musings and Angst

Okay, so strictly speaking, this isn't very English/Literature related. It isn't really academia related either. But I figured, it is my blog about my college experience and I can write about what I want, darn it! ;)
Anyway, every year each society has a dating outing, right? So, my society's is two weeks from tomorrow. Except I have no guy friends. The curse of being a townie who gets rather shy around her peers (I know, I don't know why I do that either. Tis very weird). I don't know how this got started, but there is this thing called a Tie Pull. Basically, officers (or people who have legit guy friends) go around and ask those guy friends if they would be interested in being set up with a girl in the society. The guys who are interested will donate a tie, which is put into a bag. Then all the girls who are either too shy to get a date or who have no guy friends pick a tie and that is who they go with to the dating outing.
Today was the tie pull.
I wasn't really nervous or anything. I mean, it isn't like I am going to be marrying the guy, nor is it exactly like a real romantic I-want-to-get-to-know-you-for-the-purpose-of-getting-ready-for-marriage-and-babies kind of date. It is just having a good time with friends.
So why am I slightly freaking out???
I was picked (at random) to go first. Actually, this was a good thing; I basically got to pick from all the dudes. Teehee. Eh-hem. So I go up and I look into the sky and feel around in the bag and pull out a green, cream, and purple scarf.
FLASHBACK!
First guy friend: Likes musicals and Disney movies. Nothing wrong with that in my mind. Sadly, other evidence has convinved my mom and sister that he is gay.
Second guy friend: His girl/guy friend ratio is currently 120/5. We counted. He also likes to listen to rather girly music. My mom and sister also have questions about which way this guy is swinging.
Should probably note that I try not to disparage these poor guys's characters, but my mom and sister are rather insistent. >points finger<
END FLASHBACK!
So my first thought when I see this scarf is basically "Oh, I got another [insert guy friends' names here]". Then, the girls start squealing. "Oh, you got P---!" and they say this foreign sounding name. Come to find out, he is Russian (from, like, the Black Sea or something) and he isn't the guy who has an afro (which will put my dad's mind at ease). According to the girls, he is a freshman (which, ok, it isn't that big of an age difference...I think) and he is super funny and really sweet.
So here I sit, wearing this scarf around my neck (it is actually an ok scarf. I looks well with my outfit today, I think) and I have just written to P--- telling him "hey dude! I picked your scarf! We be goin on a date! Wanna hang out before that so we can nix the awkward?" In more polite, genteel terms, of course. Now, I don't know if it is the residual woozy from the drugs, but my hands are kinda shaky. Don't know why. IT REALLY ISN'T THAT BIG OF A DEAL, HANNAH! But such is life, I guess. Maybe it is because I have never really been on a date before. Even if this isn't a real date. But it kinda is the awkward BoJo equivalent to blind dating. I guess we shall see.
I kinda stalked P--- on eguide and facebook. (With guy friend 2's help, teehee). He know Russian and English, is from North Carolina, is a business administration major with a minor in Music, and he has over a thousand friends on facebook. From his picture (which is just a little blurry), he has dark hair and is relatively cute, too. And I briefly talked to Katie, and while she doesn't know him, she thinks someone with his name (which, there is most likely only one of them on campus) is in the musical Fiddler on the Roof that is going to be performed on campus.
Good Lord, that last paragraph looks sooooooo bad.
Oh well. Whatever. He can return the stalking-favor if he feels he has to. I have no shame.
I know Sarah will be jealous. She has this thing for the Russian language >wicked laugh<.
But, there it is. My angst laid forth for your entertainment. I guess we shall see what comes out of it. Best case scenario? I get a new friend. Worst case? Hmmm. Can't think of a worst case. Oh well. :)
On a short Literary note, we studied "The Eve of St.Agnes" in Brit Lit on Wed. I do love that poem. I can almost feel my thesis on the edges of my mind, but as yet it hasn't revealed itself.
ALSO! I haven't mentioned music for a while, have I? Well, I have discovered Florence + The Machine. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 I loooove her. My favorite two songs of hers so far are 'Drumming Song' and 'Cosmic Love'. She is ethereal and mystical and red-haired and British. Amazing.
Until next time, my loves!!!

Sweet Freedom, and a New Quest

 Here I am, dearest ones! Having finally completed that semi-disastrous round of summer school, I find myself free (for the next 3 weeks, at least) to do some pleasure reading! And pleasure reading equals blogging about stuff, as you well know.
 Before I get started on my newest literary obsession, I am going to brag, just a little bit. For my American Lit class, I wrote a paper on The Scarlet Letter. The thesis was 'Pearl and Chillingworth represent opposing supernatural forces in The Scarlet Letter'. The three points were opposing characterization, purposes, and ends. For the first point, I drew largely from the thoughts generated when I wrote about the novel for this fair blog. My result? I got a B on my final draft. >slight round of applause< I was very happy with that grade.
 Now that I am free from the shackles of online academia, I have rediscovered a series that I have long been fond of, but have rather forgotten in the whole 'growing up' thing. The series?

  The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis.

I don't know why this is. It may be because before I left for vacation (to visit fam in Michigan) I may have kinda been investigating Narnia fanfiction. >kinda sheepish<. But anyway, I am really, really intrigued by these books again. I remember the first time I heard of them. I was in 2nd grade, and still going to school instead of being homeschooled. There was this thing where you get this Scholastic catalog of books, and you buy some and something special happens for the school or something. Anyway, I saw this boxed set of the books (shown right) and the whole idea of 'a series of books with a unicorn on the cover' was incredibly attractive to me. So I begged and pleaded, and Mom said that this would be the only time she did the whole Scholastic thing, and she got them for me. It was a year or two before I actually read it them, though. And I loved them. But then time went on, and distractions and other books came. When the movies started to come out, I fell in love again. But life happens, til I am a sophmore in college and having a sudden urge to read Narnia fanfiction for kicks and giggles. The End.

  Aslan and Lucy have pretty much always been my favorite characters. Aslan because, please, he's ASLAN. Actually, he may be my most favorite character of all time. And Lucy, because she always, always believes. She believes in Narnia, in Aslan, and in her family. The rest of the Pevensies rather bugged me. Peter thinks he knows everything, and so does Susan in an even more annoying way, and Edmund is just a brat. But lately, I have become intrigued by the relationship between Peter and Edmund. In all my reading experience, there has never been a brother relationship as close as portrayed with Peter and Edmund. I don't know what exactly the appeal to me is, but the appeal of such a close, non-romantic/sexual bond between people is enticing. Maybe it is so because C.S. Lewis was fascinated with 16th century English lit; I learned in my Brit Lit class that male friend relationships were closer than in modern times, without the stygma (sp?) of homosexuality. At any rate, I am beyond intrigued. Because I am on vacation, I do not have access to the books (although, I actually may, because my nieces might own them....). But I did have room in my bag to bring this guidebook to Narnia type thing. I started reading it in the car on the way here, and it was very interesting (before I absolutely had to nap, because of the ungodly hour we had to get up). So I will continue to read that, and I shall get back to you. Perhaps these next 3 weeks shall be my own Narnian adventure/quest thingy. Won't that be fun? :) Until next time, my darlings.

A Brief and Slightly Nonsensical Musing on Reincarnation



I should love to have
this hat.

 Do you, my dearest readers, believe in reincarnation? I didn't, and am not quite sure that I do now. But I find myself 89.97899% sure that I have, in fact, been reincarnated. So I am thus inspired to cheerfully begin a brief and probably not very profitable quest on mining out exactly what I think. Perhaps we may convince ourselves of something (...I wouldn't count on it, though).
 To make things scholarly and legit, I shall list a definition of reincarnation:
                  Re·in·car·na·tion/ˌrē-inkärˈnāSHən/Noun

1. The rebirth of a soul in a new body.
2. A person or animal in whom a particular soul is believed to have been reborn.
The basis for my own questioning belief in my reincarnation is actually quite simple: from a young age, I have always loved old things. Seriously, how many modern 10 year olds do you know who watched period dramas of their own decision and liking them? Actually, this number might actually be really high, if only for the homeschoolers coming forth in all their awesomeness. But I don't really know any such 10 year olds. How many 12 year olds do you know who wanted to decorate their room after the Victorian vintage shabby chic style, instead of plastering their walls with various posters of greasy haired singers and commercially pouting actors? Although, this could have everything to do with the fact that my dad would kill me if I attempted to paste anything on my walls, especially a commercially pouting actor, and have nothing to do with my supposed reincarnation. Nevertheless, so it was for me. How many 13 year olds do you know who actually rather liked to go to antique stores? Now, this is a truly legitimate enquiry. I highly doubt that there are many such rare birds as that.
  So, I really love old things. That is my first piece of evidence. My second piece of evidence doesn't really look like evidence unless you turn your head a precise 90* and squint your eyes. It is this: I am really quite adept with things related to history and literature. But! This has a limit. I have never really liked learning modern-ish history, but this was confirmed when I recently took History of Civilization. The first semester went from...Creation, and stuff, and went to about 1800. I got an A in that class. The second semester went from 1800ish through modern stuff. I got a C. This is conclusive (*snort*) evidence that I am only good with history and such through the 1930s. After that, I am sunk. This leaves me to believe that if I am indeed reincarnated, it was before this time in history.
  Now let us go back to the definition of reincarnation: the rebirth of a soul in a new body. If my understanding is correct, there can be some time that passes between the death of the one body/soul thing before the soul is placed in a new body. Ta-da! Es moi, 1992! (Consequently, I turn 19 in less than 2 months). Thus, it may be assumed that my soul has passed from body to body consistenly from the beginning of time (after, you know, Adam and stuff...) right through the entire course of history until the 30s. My soul unconciously recognizes the things about history that it remembers and loves, and it translate through to this reincarnation of myself.
  Though I am still not entirely sure that my soul has existed that long, one cannot doubt that there is a strong possibility that it may be so. At least, despite all this rambling in a silly way, I have accomplished my three-fold purpose of putting down my silly thoughts in writing, distracting both myself and you from my literary quest, and keeping you entertained enough to read this drivel. :)
  Dear readers, I do love you. Hope you have an amazing day.

Return to Pen...Figuratively, at Least

 Good morrow, readers! Once again I have returned after an abysmally long absence--over a year, if my calculations are correct. Tis too sad, really. But I have a reasonably good excuse for it, I promise!
  College.
  Yes, my first year of college scholastics has come and gone. >throw some confetti for old times sake< Freshman English was a nightmare, History of Civilization wasn't as bad as everyone made it out to be, and I am taking summer school, dear ones! Early Brit Lit lasted a fantastic 4 weeks and I was sad to see it go.
  But, to try and prevent any more long, unexplained absences from the cyber-realm, I have come up with a plan. See, for the past year and I half, my main interests have been English, English, English, grades, sleep, and English. So I thought, why not try and use my blog (poor, neglected thing) as a forum for my English-y thoughts? I have been trying to talk English with everyone I come in contact with but, let's be honest, I am not surrounded by fellow literary enthusiasts. The only other English enthusiast I know is Katie, and (sadly) I cannot be constantly nagging at her with my deep college-lit thoughts (though she would let me if she could, bless her! Love you, bestie!). So I have decided to put the figurative pen to the figurative paper and write out my English-y thoughts to my heart's content. Who knows, I may actually think up something mindblowing and earns millions of dollars for my discovery....yeah, I don't really think so either. :)
 Anyway....

  In two weeks, I begin another session of summer classes, amongst which includes Early American Literature. To try and get ahead, I have already begun reading the required novel: The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I have read through the 4th chapter thus far: 'The Interview'. I should mention that I will most likely be referencing lots of stuff that I have read in the story, so I guess they count as spoilers, even if they aren't that far into the book. If you have a sudden and overwhelming urge to read this novel for the first time, I highly recommend that you skip this part.

  I didn't have high hopes for The Scarlet Letter. I haven't really had the highest...appreciation for American Literature (because, honestly, British things are usually better on principle). I also started to read this book before, and I didn't get any farther than...the 4th chapter (irony...?). Plus, I already knew the story. What more did I need?  But reading (this far, at least) this time a round, I have been struck with Nathaniel Hawthorne's awesomeness as a writer. His descriptions of Puritan New England are amazing and vivid, especially of the Puritans themselves. I feel great sympathy for Hester Prynne, too. I guess that is the point of the novel, but really! Poor woman wasn't born to be a Puritan. She is described as having "an impulsive and passionate nature"--can you imagine being an impulsive and passionate Puritan? You would suffocate! Despite my compassion for Hester, I am more fascinated with the character of Roger Chillingworth, the unfortunate husband of the unfortunate Hester. He sent her ahead to the New World from Amsterdam, and spent about two years away; from what I can understand he had been travelling and living among the Indians. He comes to the Massachusetts colony to be ransomed from the Indians or something, and the first thing he sees upon entering town is his wife standing on a pedastal in the middle of the town with a scarlet A plastered on her chest and a baby that is most definitely not his. That alone would make me feel sorry for the poor guy. But in the 4th chapter, we get further insight into the character of Chillingworth.

  We learn that Chillingworth was already at least middle-aged by the time he married Hester. Born disfigured (one shoulder is higher than the other) and with a rabid scholastic fascination, he is not the best mate for the beautiful and vibrant woman who becomes his wife. But Chillingworth has this to say about his marriage:

 " 'True,' replied he. 'It [marrying Hester when he knew she did not love him] was my folly! I have said it. But, up to that epoch in my life, I had lived in vain. The world had been so cheerless! My heart was a habitation large enough for many guests, but lonely and chill, and without a household fire. I longed to kindle one! It seemed not so wild a dream--old as I was, and sombre as I was, and misshapen as I was--that the simple bliss, which is scattered far and wide for all mankind to gather up, might yet be mine. And so, Hester, I drew thee into my heart, into its innermost chamber, and sought to warm thee by the warmth which thy presence made there!'" (pg. 66).

  It is a long quotation, I know, but it captures the man's hopes precisely. Poor Roger Chillingworth! However, Chillingworth will not be the type of guy to languish in agony of spirit. Though he might have had deep affection for Hester, it is apparent that if that affection isn't entirely gone it is going to be pushed under the proverbial rug in the quest to ruin Hester's lover. When I was reading the passage when he is discussing the matter with Hester I actually got a few goosebumps. His matter-of-fact, even almost pleasant tone in the passage is chilling (pun slightly intended). Bear with me: I am going to put down one more somewhat lengthy quote--my favorite in my reading thus far. After Chillingworth makes Hester swear to keep his identity a secret, they end their interview in this way:

  " 'Why dost thou smile so at me?' inquired Hester, troubled at the expression of his eyes. 'Art thou like the Black Man that haunts the forest round about us? Hast thou enticed me into a bond that will prove the ruin of my soul?'

  'Not thy soul,' he answered, with another smile. 'No, not thine!'" (68).

 Gah! One might be tempted to feel sorry for Hester's lover (whose identity I won't mention in this entry). Yet despite the creepiness of Chillingworth's implied revenge, I think I like him best of all. However, I shall have to continue reading to find out if this first opinion holds.

 Goodnight, my readers! Pleasant dreams, pleasant reading (if you like to read, anyway...whatever).

Bibliography:

   Hawthorne, Nathaniel. The Scarlet Letter . New York: New American library, 1999. Print.

 

Wuthering Heights

So, I am listening to this song (I know, you are probably going to get really annoyed with that line. Guess what? Too bad. >snigger<) Anyway, it is Wuthering Heights by (yes! her.) Hayley Westenra. And it made me think of the book. Which I have read. Very interesting. So that is what this entry is going to be about.
CAUTION!!!!! SPOILERS ABOUT WUTHERING HEIGHTS FROM THIS POINT ONWARD!!!PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!!!
So, this song makes me think about the relationship of Heathcliff and Cathy. (Which, if you must know, is only the first half of the novel. Yeah, I did not know this either. It suprised me. I do not think that the 1930's movie version had it like that. Then again, the last time I saw that movie was how many years ago now?) But their relationship is all dark and self-centered and depressing and selfish and obsessive. I mean, Cathy is like 'well, I can't marry Heathcliff, cause it would degrade me to marry him (note: who the heck does she think she is?! The Queen of Sheba?), but I don't want him to go away and find happiness elsewhere because he and I are intertwined, and I don't always like him, but I need him around.' And he marries her sister-in-law (another note: Linton should have been shot in the first scene he appeared in. I have valid reasons for this. 1) His name is Linton. Which is a variation of lint. 2) He is a weany, namby-pamby, not even half-of-an-excuse-for -a-man THING. Seriously, get a life. 3) He is a blonde. Call me weird, but if you are mamby-pamby, don't even come around me, but if you are BLONDE on top of that, you fail at life. Be ashamed and go away. Think of all the weany-ish blonde/light-headed men in life and literature. A) Ashley Wilkes, Gone With the Wind. B) Raoul de Chagny, Phantom of the Opera. C) Zac Efron, of High School Musical fame, which doesn't deserve italics.) Okay, ummmm, oh yeah!! Heathcliff is just evil, forget Isabella whatever. So, that is why their relationship is not a healthy one.
But then, you read the part where they see each other for the last time, and it is like, 'wow, he really loves her.' And after she is dead, he has this long speech which is something to the effect of "You said I killed you, haunt me then! Drive me mad, only don't leave me alone in this void where I cannot find you! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!". Now, I know this is unhealthy obsession, but still, you can't help but be touched, at least if you are female.
I don't know what the purpose of this rant was, just to document that I am as swayed by sweet words as the next gal. I am a foolish girl. I readily admit it. I think you should have guessed that, at least by my last entry. So I speedily take this opportunity to shift the blame to you, my lovely readers, for not seeing this sooner. ;) But, like Bella Swan of Twilight notoriety (which most *definitely* deserves the italics) says, 'maybe their love is their only redeeming quality". Maybe it is the same for some people. Maybe, all those selfish, hateful people have loved someone. And that alone is their redeeming quality. I know love can't redeem people, in the eternal sense, but in this life..? Hmm. Food for thought.
Aaaah. I have run out of things for Wuthering Heights. Having a blog is difficult, my dearest readers. You want to keep writing, and letting people see more of what you think and feel, but then again, you want to save some for tomorrow. I must depart, for now. Imagine 'Don't Give Up' by Josh Groban. It is a good credits song.
>dances along her way.<