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!!!

Fancy a Cakewalk?

 Do you know, I really like my campus library. I really do. Tis quiet and peaceful and has lots and lots of books.
 I just thought I'd put that out there. :)
 So, the way my schedule is set up, I have about 2 hours everyday free for lunch and stuff. Today is the first day that I don't really have homework to do during that time, so VOILA! I decided to write in my poor lonesome blog. Sadly, there will be no deep thoughts today; because I haven't had time to study anything very deeply and I am actually rather ill. Did you know having a cold is rather like being on some sort of high? Seriously, it is! I don't know why, but everything I look at has a kind of weird wonky texture around the edges of my eyes (which keep watering for some reason. I must look hideously like Peter Pettigrew). And there is a vague feeling of unreality and tiredness around me. And my hands randomly shake like mad--Mum says its the cold medicine. And I have this cough, though not as nasty as it could be. I speak from last year's experience. And I am sniffing like crazy. I want to describe the whole experience as 'tripping', but Mum says that isn't the best term to use, especially at school. Even if it is true.
 Wow. I had no idea I was going to go off on that tangent. See? I am totally tripping, in the sense of having blocked sinuses.
  You know who I like? Keats. Keats is wonderful. We are learning about him in Brit Lit (speaking of! I love my BL teacher. Her name is Dr. Rowe and she is fabulous. I am never bored in that class [which, actually, I don't usually get bored in any lit class...but that is beside the point] and she has a quirky sense of humor. I just like her). Yeah. He is a Second Generation Romantic (I guess they came in waves or something) and he is actually normal. Especially when compared to Wordsworth, who annoyed the heck out of me. Seriously? He was tripping. Anyway, Keats. I just love him. We are going to go over The Eve of St. Agnes tomorrow, which I actually first loved when I first read it in, what, 10th grade? Yeah, there abouts. That is what I will be writing my paper about, though. Not 10th grade, Eve of St. Agnes. If you haven't read it, do. Tis amazing. The thing is I haven't figured out my thesis yet. There are many different ways I suppose I could go, but I just haven't had an idea speak to me yet. It doesn't help that all my thinking is basically reduced to ADD musings about the relationship between colds and drug-induced highs. (Yeah, and random Harry Potter references. I do love those books...) I guess my thesis will come to me, and I sincerely doubt that it will be due this week. Dr. Rowe is rather very much behind. Her mother died and she had to deal with that, so I am not peeved about being behind and not quite knowing what I am supposed to be doing for the day. Iss awl gooood. ;)
  I guess I should sign off. I don't really have anything productive to say...maybe I can go read a book or something, since I am in the library. Speaking of reading and tripping, let me tell you, it is reeeeeeally weird. The words kinda squiggle but don't know. Most distracting. My sinuses just need to clear already. Or I should be allowed to go home and sleep. Preferably both, but neither is going to happen.
  Anyway, til next time!

A New Song

  Yesterday, I discovered this song from Josh Groban's newest album Illuminations. Tis called "Bells of New York City". I love it so much, that I decided to share it with you. The video below is a lyric video (lyrics on the screen), but if you don't have time to watch the video (or just really don't want to) I will post the lyrics below the video. I urge you to pay attention the the last verse of the song; it makes me a little breathless. Enjoy, darlings!

Bells Of New York City lyrics
There's a pale winter moon in the sky coming through my window
And the park is laid out like a bed below
It's a cold, dark night and my heart melts like the snow
And the bells of New York City tell me not to go

It's always this time of year that my thoughts undo me
With the ghosts of many lifetimes all abound
But from these mad heights I can always hear the sound
Of the bells of New York City singing all around

Stay with me, stay with me
Refuge from these broken dreams
Wait right here awake with me
On silent snow filled streets

Sing to me one song for joy and one for redemption
And whatever's in between that I call mine
With the street lamp light to illuminate the gray
And the bells of New York City calling me to stay
The bells of New York City calling me to stay.

*lyrics retrieved from elyrics.net; song Josh Groban's.

And the award for 'most brilliant' goes to...

   As y'all know, I have become re-fascinated with The Chronicles of Narnia as of late. But before I could dive into rediscovering that series, I felt that I needed more information about its author--a lot more information. While reading his autobiography (Surprised by Joy) would have been ideal, my library does not have it. However, I did find The C.S. Lewis Chronicles: the Indispensable Biography of the Creator of Narnia, Full of Little-known Facts, Events and Miscellany. It has proved to be a vastly interesting read, and has further increased my awe about this fascinating man. So, I guess that this post will be made of just a few of the facts I have learned about C.S. Lewis.

1. He was actually born Clive Staples Lewis. Very early in his life he nicknamed himself 'Jacks' or 'Jack', and continued to be called such (by family and friends) for the rest of his life.
2. He lived in the north of Ireland during a majority of his life, the landscape of which inspired his idea of the Narnian landscape.
3. He read more than any person I have ever heard of in my entire life. Seriously. There are at least 2 lists in The C.S. Lewis Chronicles detailing the books he read in his life, and they are extensive lists. He is fluent in Latin and Greek before he is 17 years old.
Ok, can't manage to continue the list thing; I guess what happens next will just be fangirly rambling.
This man was seriously, seriously, seriously brilliant. I don't know if it is because the standards for education in 1930s-ish Britain are so much stricter than now, or my own natural scholastic pessimism; either way, I know that there is no way I could do as much as he did scholastically. Even just looking at, say, the topics he discussed with his friends, or the titles of the lectures he gave--they are  amazing. I guess there is a book (or two?) with his lectures gathered together. His passion was medieval literature, and he loved the idea of a 'romance'--which he defines as something that sparks of something of another world. Most of his work, from what I can gather, has to do with this aspect.
 C.S. Lewis was actually a sort of atheist for a good part of his life. This fact surprised me when I first heard it, because of all of the Biblical allusions in the Narnia series. It was only after becoming convinced of the deity of Christ and the truth of the Bible (his statement about his philosophy about why the Bible is true is fascinating; I think another whole blog entry will have to be dedicated to that alone) that he wrote his many theologically-based works.
  I haven't yet finished The C.S. Lewis Chronicles; for now, I am at the part where Lewis is still teaching at Oxford during WWII. However, I have determined, based upon this book (which I fully recommend, by the bye) that my purpose in life is to teach a C.S. Lewis course at my college someday. But, for now, I am just an almost second-semester sophmore, and my mom wants me to get off the computer now. So, until next time, you know that I will be studying more about this insanely genius guy. Adieu, dear ones!

Duriez, Colin. The C.S. Lewis Chronicles: the Indispensable Biography of the Creator of Narnia, Full  of Little-known Facts, Events and Miscellany. New York: BlueBridge, 2005. Print.

Smiley Faces and Happy Dances

  This, my dear readers, has nothing really to do with literary things. Unless you count the fact that it is about school, where I am learning lots of literary things. But the focus is not on those literary things. It is in fact on the school.
  Earlier this year, when school ended, I realized that I did not have a high enough GPA to receive a $5,000 scholarship that I needed to attend school. After a large bout of panicking, my mother and I sallied forth on a short but dizzying quest to try and figure out something to help me get the money we needed. After talking to everyone at my college but the president himself, we deduced that, to raise my GPA, I had to take 15 credits worth of classes this summer. Just in case you aren't aware, 15 credits is an entire semester's worth of credits. No joke. And I had to get A's in all of those classes. The first bunch of classes I took on campus, and behold, I actually got A-'s in both. Then, for the rest of the credits, I took 3 online classes. I have since been told that taking 3 online classes at once is the equivalent of having a 22 credit load during a 15 week semester. (Which, during the school year, it is not allowed for an undergrad to take more than 20.) I don't think it needs to be said that I failed spectacularly (as far as getting A's; technically, I think I passed them....).
  Yesterday was when I realized that all the work that I had done this summer had come to naught. It was not a very good time. Much tears ensued. However, due to encouraging parents and besties, hope was restored. Even if I couldn't afford to take a full semester, I could still take a couple courses and work. And it wasn't like I could fall behind much; I am techinically a semester ahead.
  Today my dad and I went to the Financial Aid office, and a nice man named Mr. Day (liked Lotus cars, was ex-military, and had a grenade hanging off of his in box--no joke) sat down and figured out that I am still able to go to school full time after all.
  The Lord is good to me >sing song like my Mom does when she is happy about getting a parking spot close to our Publix<

Another Random Video...

....except this song is my theme song. I kid you all not. Enjoy, 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.

The Scarlet Letter Round 2

  I have finished The Scarlet Letter, dear readers. For some reason I just had the hardest time sleeping the other night, so voila! 20 chapters finished in 4ish hours. My general impression of the book? Well, it was incredibly sad for me. You know the feeling you get when you are watching a movie, and you can't help but like the hero of the story, but you have a certain kinship for the villain as well? Or that moment in a movie when everything is exquisitely and poignantly perfect for the leading couple, but you know that it can't last, that their happiness is doomed even as it enfold before your eyes? Yeah, I had that feeling through the majority of the narrative. A kind of doomed bittersweetness. Sort of. Maybe. :) Or maybe I was just a little woozy from the lack of sleep.
  I should also probably note that I come to finish this post at least 4 different times and have been unable to finish it. For some reason I got the hugest mental block when I came to write stuff down. Then, I realized that I was overthinking it and actually kind of viewing it like an English paper that I have to write. My dear readers, this is not English class (despite the fact that I love my En classes) and you are not my professors who will be giving me a grade. So, I am just gonna...wing it. And use totally unacceptable academic writing terms such as 'gonna'.

  One more thing: Spoiler Alert! Beware!

  A prevailing theme that I noticed throughout the novel was beauty. Physical beauty, beauty of things (i.e. luxurious things), beauty of the personality, total absence of beauty, etc. What I also noticed was that the idea of beauty was implicitly connected to the idea of secret sin...sorta. Bear with me, I have some evidence.

  In chapter five, 'Hester at Her Needle', Hawthorne details Hester's normal life after the incident on the scaffold; how she got her living, where she lived, but most importantly how she and her village interacted. Keep that thought, I am jumping really quickly to a relevant point. Later on in chapter eight, 'The Elf-Child and the Minister', there is a little passage about Puritans and luxurious things.

   "But it is an error to suppose that our grave forefathers...made it a matter of conscience to reject such means of comfort, or even luxury, as lay fairly within their grasp"  (pg. 96).
  I should say not. In chapter seven, Hawthorne gives details of the governor's house, which has these fantastic outer walls with crushed glass in them that sparkled like a jewel whenever the light hit the house (92).  This makes me think Real Housewives of Atlanta, not Puritan Colonial New England. The list of luxurious things that the governor brought over from England and kept goes on throughout the chapter.     Okay, back to the other point. In the middle of chapter five, there is a passage about the scarlet letter (which, despite its ignomious meaning, we know from the text is a beautiful thing) giving Hester a second sense about her fellow townsfolk:

  "Sometimes the red infamy upon her breast  would give a sympathetic throb as she passed near a venerable minister or magistrate, the model of piety and justice....'What evil thing is at hand?' would Hester say to herself. Lifting her reluctant eyes, there would be nothing human within the scope of view, save the form of this earthly saint!" (77, emphasis mine).

 Is it just coincidence that Hawthorne details for us the beauty of the governor's house, especially in light of this tidbit? Perhaps...but I don't really think so. Another thing about beauty and secret sin; when we finally get Hester and Dimmesdale (her unfortunate and rather wishy-washy lover) together to have a decent conversation, they hatch up this plan to escape the confines of their mutual guilt by running away with little Pearl back to the Continent where they can live in relatively perfect anonymity. Which is where the whole poignancy thing comes in, by the bye. We know that the whole happily ever after scheme (which, how HEA can it be, if the reason they had to run was adultery and deceit?...) cannot work, just because it is that kind of story, but you desperately wish for these people to just get some sort of peace and happiness. Anyway, they hatch up this plan. The notable thing about this encounter is the temporary change in Hester and Dimmesdale while they sit in the woods and talk details about this plan. We have it that after she had Pearl and everything, all her former beauty was apparently gone forever; she hid her glorious dark hair in a cap, she wore only the dingiest-colored clothes, her face was drawn and worried all the time. Yet see this transformation in her after she flings away her scarlet letter:

  "By another impulse, she took off the formal cap that confined her hair; and down it fell upon her shoulders, dark and rich, with at once a shadow and a light in its abundance, and imparting the charm of  softness to her features. There played around her mouth and beamed out of her eyes a radiant and tender smile, that seemed gushing from the very heart of womanhood. A crimson flush was glowing on her cheek, that had long been so pale. Her sex, her youth, and the whole richness of her beauty, came back from what men call the irrevocable past, and clustered themselves, with her maiden hope and a happiness before unknown, within the magic circle of this hour." (185, emphasis mine).

  Hawthorne also details the beauty of the little forest enclave they sit in, and how the sun finally peaks through the branches and further stuff like that. It is only when Hester has a hope of escaping the consequences of her sin that her lost beauty returns, and only for a brief period; she and Dimmesdale must return for what they think is just a few days to the village so they can prepare for their journey.
  There are even more allusions in The Scarlet Letter; allusions to the supernatural, to freedom, and to Satanic influence (which I suppose can be placed under the supernatural umbrella...). However, I think it is time for me to put aside the Hester and Chillingworth and Dimmesdale for now. After all, in a few weeks I have to get deep into it again for my classes.
  Speaking of which, my classes started today! It is a lot of work already, and I don't know if there was much wisdom in choosing to do 3 classes online. But I guess I will find out....
  So, for now, my friends, farewell!

 

 

The Scottish Play

 Good Saturday! I have finished The Scarlet Letter, and am in the midst of writing about the rest of the novel. But, alas, I haven't the time to finish that entry right now. And I was thinking about other blogs and other stuff, and I was kinda bored, so I decided to post a video from YouTube! Cause I love YouTube! So here is one of my favorites from The Reduced Shakespeare Company. Enjoy, luvs!

                                              Reduced Shakepeare Company's Macbeth

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.