esprit de l'escalier

The appeal of old books

I had an argument with a friend yesterday about why I like Jane Austen. I think he was goading me because I had admitted my excitement about getting home in time to watch the new Masterpiece Theatre's Jane Eyre. Because he has no use for books of that nature he was curious why I did. (Did I say "think he was goading me"? I should have been more definite.) Later I asked my roommate how you explain why you find a story compelling. She didn't respond, because she didn't want to be a proxy in my argument.

I was disappointed when I got home and realized I missed the first installment of Jane Eyre. For some reason I thought the mini started last night. I have never read any of the Brontë Sisters; somehow they eluded my reading lists growing up. I decided to watch the conclusion anyway, partially because I was primed for a period piece and partially because I had read that Toby Stephens' Rochester was supposed to be definitive.

I was able to pick up on the main themes, and while I wish I could have seen it entirely to see Jane and Rochester fall for each other, I enjoyed it. There are some extremely silly bits to that story, though. If I had read it at 16, I'm sure I would have swooned at all the appropriate places. I think, though, that soap operas must owe a certain debt to Jane Eyre. As does Daphne du Maurier in Rebecca. While the stories aren't the same, in both the lovers are set free by fire.

I think my friend was teasing me because he thought I read Jane Austen and the like for the romances. While I do enjoy the Mr. Darcys and Captain Wentworths therein, its the heroines they love that keep me returning to my old favorites. I reread the classics to find mirrors to pieces of my soul or to find ways to improve myself by learning from their mistakes and triumphs.

Cross-posted.

The moofin, etc.

This week has been somewhat non-stop and tonight was going to be just going to the pet store and recuping. It turned into errands and dinner and drinks with my brother, which is good since we haven't seen each other since the holidays. I spent a bunch of money on the little moofin. He got a new bed, a bigger litter box, a couple of toys, etc. (Sharon, he went straight for the bed, but then he went straight for a toy when I set that down. The new litter box is so far the most fun. He loves to dig.)

Frank has a plethora of nicknames. There are several variations of "muffin", from "moofin" to "muffinsky." "Moofin" comes straight from the Swedish Chef, when he makes donuts.

Frank is getting some presents because I'm feeling like a neglectful mother. He's going to be left alone this weekend for about 36 hours and I want to make sure he has things to occupy his time. My roommate and I are headed to my parents annual Burns Night party this weekend. Today is in fact Robbie Burns' birthday, see my post last year for some more info on the famous Scottish poet. Anyone in the central Ohio area that wants to drink a lot of whisky and read some poetry on Saturday should drop me a line...

The polaroid above is one I took this weekend in DC. It's a Juan Muñoz sculpture outside of the Hirschhorn, where I worked one summer in the giftshop. I love it and its artist. I saw a wonderful show of his there a couple of years ago, but he sadly died unexpectedly just before the show opened.

A little catch up

Argh. I just lost the post I just wrote. Which is really frustrating as I was planning on swan diving into my bed just about now. Let's see. My little muffinsky has been acting especially crazy since I got home yesterday. He's been extra active, trying to continually climb my shoulders and/or eat my hands/ears/feet. Have I told you all he likes women's underwear? He's most adept at stealing Natasha's, because her closet door doesn't quite latch. He loves laundry day. I returned to my room the other day to find him sitting pretty in my laundry basket, all innocent like, refusing to leave. Natasha found out some other things he likes to eat this weekend. Apparently he found out where I keep my stash of polyfill for craft projects and loves to eat it. I'm sure there's nothing wrong with a kitten ingesting tufts of polyester stuffing, right? She also discovered that he defies cat trainers and likes citrus fruits. (I had read that citrus would keep cats from chewing on things.) He apparently ate part of her grapefruit when her back was turned.

I had a great visit to DC this weekend, though I'm exhausted. It was good seeing new and old friends, even the unlinkable ones! I ate lots of good food, swapped and re-swapped stories and met some nice people. It's always nice to be able to see a snippet of my friends' lives, and to hang out with their cats. There were a lot of cats this weekend. Big ones that look like aliens to me, since I'm used to my little ankle biter.

I hate to say this because I daily curse the CTA but hate to hear outsiders trashing it, but riding the Metro after the Red Line was heaven. So quiet, so clean. The one thing I truly appreciate about DC's public transportation is the strict adherence to the stand on the right, walk on the left rule. I like to be in continual motion when bopping through public transportation and hate getting clogged by pedestrian traffic and therefore I love this rule. This rule is not followed very well on the CTA, which makes me crazy.

Maryam had a wonderful suggestion for some posts for me (based on a question from Jennifer). I'm going to do a mini series on my favorite Etsy shops, but I don't think I'll be able to do it til next week. So stay tuned! You too can become a craft addict.

Random bits

Today was gray and I've been tired all week. I fell into a deep food coma après le déjeuner and convinced my friend Sharon we needed to take a quick walk to the Prairie Avenue Bookstore and B&N for magazines. To get more oxygen in our veins. Plus I wanted the new issue of Dwell, but they were out. (The fabulous Ashley G and her boyfriend Drew are apparently quoted in an article about Etsy. Plus it's my current favorite magazine.) I did pick up a Fast Company and a new (to me) Sara Paretsky. I'm heading to DC this weekend for my friend Ginny's birthday, and to see my old roommate Mary and my cousin and his wife. (I also get to meet the lovely e. of Stories About Wolves! Yay for bloggy friends!) I needed some reading material for the plane and the metro. My trips to DC always consist of me running around town with my backpack, jumping from person to person. It's always nice to visit, but I'm always a little tired when I return.

Yesterday I had an email from some discount travel service advertising $204 fares to Europe. Then today I read that the Tate Modern is doing an exhibit this summer on Salvador Dalí and film. I'd love to see that. I loved his trippy dream sequences in Hitchcock's Spellbound. Though, at this moment, I can't see me working out a trip to London this summer. As much as I might want to go.

My fortune cookie today said, "Call an old friend today." I should do that before the day ends.

Part of my soundtrack today:
"Concrete Sky" by Beth Orton
"Jackson" by Lucinda Williams
"Leavin'" by Shelby Lynne
"Good Woman" by Cat Power

The polaroid above is one I took at the end of July. After I bought my camera I took it downtown and took some test shots around work. This is one of the Indian statues that bookend Congress Parkway. I always loved them as a kid. I took some polaroids into the lab at school to scan. I'll probably continue posting my good ones.

By the men who moil for gold

(Editor's note: I've been invited to participate in a new group blog, newcritics, a place to discuss various bits of culture. This post has been cross-posted there as well. I also feel like I'm riffing on themes I've covered before, which makes me feel a little foolish. How many times does one really need to quote this particular poem? Apparently twice. Sorry, but I couldn't help myself.)

Today is the birthday of Robert Service, the first of two Scottish poets whose birthdays I'll celebrate this month. Well, I didn't really celebrate Service's birthday, but I called my mother to tell her. My Uncle Paul gave my mother and grandfather books on Service this year for Christmas in honor of their spontaneous recitation of "The Cremation of Sam McGee" last Thanksgiving. To be honest, Service was really Canadian, though Scottish-born. The second poet's birthday, Robert Burns, will truly be celebrated, at another of my parents' Burns Night Suppers next weekend.

I like the idea of family's gathering round and reading and reciting poetry together. I suppose, besides the odd bit of Mother Goose with young children, this does not really happen any more. Video killed the radio star, and perhaps poetry star as well. Which is sad, really, because poetry can teach us about our language as well as our humanity, and give us hints to proper posture and confidence when speaking aloud to an audience.

Though I don't think we've lost these recitations entirely. People read aloud to their children, and we listen to music and sing together as well.

Here's a link I've found of Johnny Cash reading "The Cremation of Sam McGee."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Thoughts on art

Today I found myself at the DePaul library researching Russian Suprematism, an art movement of which, up to recently, I was unaware. (I am working on a short report on this for my Principles of Graphic Design class. We are going to be creating posters of different art movements. I thought the simple geometric shapes would lend themselves to posters.)

I found the books on Kazimir Malevich, the movement's founder, a the shelf, near a collection of books on Edvard Munch. I saw the book that accompanied the retrospective I saw at the MoMA in March. I pulled the book from the shelf and plopped to the ground and started skimming and flipping my way through the book. My surprise at his work jumped back to my mind as I browsed through his colorful, expressionist paintings. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed that show.

I realized later, thinking about sitting on the floor surrounded by art books, that if I could have been a lady of leisure, I would have liked to study modern art. I could have been like the Cone sisters of Baltimore, who amassed a who collection of Matisse pieces. In my next life I wouldn't mind being the one who studies art.

A full plate

(The following is kind of whiny. Feel free to skip to the picture of the kitten.)

The immediate future, at least until the end of March, scares me just a little bit. Work is heating up. We just finished data collection and are cleaning the data and getting ready to deliver it to the client. All the while we are waiting for the rebid contract of the next round of the project to come out. (That may not make any sense, but trust me when I say I'm going to be very busy and will probably have nightmares about excel spreadsheets.)

I also just recently decided that I want to get another master's degree (once this one is done) and would like to start in the fall. So I've got the GRE to take, as well as an essay to write, a writing sample to polish and professors and colleagues to harangue about recommendations. I also need to get my visa to China ready and make some plans for my trip other than arrival and depature dates. Plus I've got two night classes that seem like they are going to be fun, but very production heavy. Hopefully that means not a ton of reading. I also like having something of a social life, so that needs to get worked in there somewhere.

I'm trying to keep a master To-Do list with deadlines. Hopefully I can keep myself honest. Actually, that's partially why I aired my annoying laundry here. Feel free to nag and poke. I'll need it. I've realize something else I will need. For twenty-five years I've avoided a coffee addiction. I think my time has come. Actually, I know it has. Sigh.

Anyhow, sorry for my belly aching. Here's the promised picture of the kitten. Frank had his second round of vaccines last night. He now weighs 3lbs. 8oz. He also comes to his name when called, which I think is fabulous. He can't not come when you call him. It's hilarious. Sometimes it looks like he fights against it but can't help himself. I have no idea how this happened.

Shameless plug

My friend Ginny runs the blog for the ONE campaign. She's got a post on the Huffington Post today! How neat! Check it out!

Caught in the rain

As I left the house this evening I passed my umbrella and paused. Would I need it? Nah. It hadn't felt like rain earlier in the day. It's the second time this week I've ventured out without an umbrella and regretted it.

I went to meet my friend Allison to see Notes on a Scandal, which was what I wanted it to be. Vaguely voyeuristic, gossiping, entwining. Judi Dench malevolently spun her web to catch Cate Blanchett. It's not a movie about nice people, and Dench is especially not nice as the slightly deluded but dangerous spinster teacher. Blanchett is beautiful (as always) as the naive and inappropriate art teacher. It was fun to see Dench so hard-hearted. Allison had real estate envy for Blanchett's character's house and I wanted her wardrobe.

We left the theatre to find it pouring, with a bit of freezing rain mixed in for fun, and we really enjoyed running to the bus stop. The bus, with its windows fogged up, was warm but lurched forward and back like we were in the hull of a ship. The rain had stopped by the time we reached our respective stops. I really don't get this weather. My roommate is pleased because she doesn't like the cold. It has me suspicious and concerned. I'd rather have snow.

VJF

This is the present I bought myself with the Christmas money from my grandparents. Isn't it pretty? It's a Polaroid SX-70 Land Camera circa 197?. It came with a beautiful leather carrying case with the initials "VJF" embossed in faded gold lettering. (I couldn't figure out how to work the case into the picture.) It folds up into about the size of a (heavy) paperback book and so far takes lovely photos. My two classes take place in a Mac lab, so I'll just have to take my roids there to scan them.

There was a funny cat incident this evening. I got home and was in the bathroom, but Frank likes to come in and hang out while you do your thing. I stood up and was closing the door and he made a flying leap at the toilet, too late realizing that the lid was up. He scrambled on the edge like Wile E. Coyote, but ended up like a half-dunked oreo in the basin. He was not pleased. Neither was I, but he liked the impromptu bath in the sink even less. Little crazy monkey.