Sunday, December 28, 2008

Jane Austen in Scarsdale

This was book number two in the "two in two days" modern Jane Austen frenzy! I wanted to share a few quotes from the book that I liked.
"Life isn't a Jane Austen novel. I'ts one thing to be long-suffering in a story, where the author can make it worth you while, but in real life, who's going to make sure it ends happily? Just look at what happened with poor Jane Austen. She worked things out for that long-suffering ninny, Anne Elliot, in her last book, but who worked things out for her? Believe me, my dear, no man is a prince, except in the imagination."

"Regret is a useless emotion" murmured Winnie.
"It's a sad emotion, but it's not a useless one," said Anne resolutely. "You have to regret - even mourn - your mistakes if you're ever going to move on. I made a mistake when I gave up Ben Cutler, and I regret it. Which doesn't mean I can't go on living."

"He offered to pay me a stipend, which I declined. I am not Jane Eyre, just an impecunious gentlewoman with ties to the estate."

"Who are the ten greatest poets of all time?" demanded a spokeman for the class
"One' Shakespeare.
Two: Milton. He wrote Paradise Lost. The greatest action-adventure poem in Engling.
Three: John Donne.
Four: William Wordsworth. Big on nature, but there's more going on than just flowers and trees.
Five: Walt Whitman - great American poet.
Six: Emily Dickinson. A nutcase, but brilliant.
Seven: William Butler Yeats. An Irish poet.
Eight: Robert Frost. He wrote 'Stopping by Woods' but theres others that are also great.
Nine: Gwendolyn Brooks - a woman of color who didn't preach about it.
Ten: Don Riggs. You probably never heard of him. He lives in Philadelphia and writes for small literary journals and online magazines. Look him up on the Internet. He's a genius."

It's Official

I have gone off the deep end. Reached the point of no return. From this day forward all shall know of it.
There, I said it. And I must confess that it feels a lot better getting that off my chest.
I finished my second modern day Jane Austen book last night.
And if I remember right...yep...that makes two in two days!
Like I said...hopeless...

Saturday, December 27, 2008

Me & Mr. Darcy

While packing like a mad woman on Tuesday morning, I grabbed this book that was sitting in my "read these books someday" pile. I figured I would be at Grandma's house for two days, and it never hurt anyone to be prepared. Turns out I couldn't sleep for anything on Tuesday night, so I started reading this book, 'Me & Mr. Darcy". My mom picked it up at a bookstore a few months ago, and I figured if all else fails, it has a cute cover and can sit on my vanity!
I was surprised by how quickly I was drawn into the book. I couldn't put it down! Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that this is best fictional book that was ever written. As you know I am a big fan of the Twilight books, and this doesn't come close! But it was worth reading.

After a string of disastrous dates, Emily Albright decides she’s had it with modern-day love and would much rather curl up with Pride and Prejudice and spend her time with Mr. Darcy, the dashing, honorable, and passionate hero of Jane Austen’s classic. So when her best friend suggests a wild week of margaritas and men in Mexico with the girls, Emily abruptly flees to England on a guided tour of Jane Austen country instead. Far from inspiring romance, the company aboard the bus consists of a gaggle of little old ladies and one single man, Spike Hargreaves, a foul-tempered journalist writing an article on why the fictional Mr. Darcy has earned the title of Man Most Women Would Love to Date.
The last thing Emily expects to find on her excursion is a broodingly handsome man striding across a field, his damp shirt clinging to his chest. But that’s exactly what happens when she comes face-to-face with none other than Mr. Darcy himself. Suddenly, every woman’s fantasy becomes one woman’s reality. . . .

I think the reason I liked this book so much was because, in the end, she realizes that Mr. Darcy is not all that she thought he would be. He is stiff, and quiet, and awkward. Nothing like she thought, or maybe exactly what she thought...

Monday, December 22, 2008

Cinderella, the story of a blonde! (in a politically correct way!)

There once lived a young woman named Cinderella, whose natural birthmother had died when Cinderella was but a child. A few years after, her father married a widow with two older daughters. Cinderella's mother-of-step treater her very cruelly, and her sisters-of-step make her work very hard, as if she were their own personal unpaid laborer.
One day and invitation arrived at their house. The prince was celevrating his exploitation of the dispossessed and marginalized peasantry by throwing a fancy dress ball. Cinderella's sisters-of-step were very excited to be invited to the palace. They began to plan the expensive clothes they would use to alter and enslave their natural body images of emulate an unrealistic standard of feminine beauty. (It was especially unrealistic in their case, as they were differently visaged enough to stop a clock.) Her mother-of-step also planned to go to the ball, so Cinderella was working harder than a dog (an appropriate if unfortunately speciesist metaphor).When the day of the ball arrived, Cinderella helped her mother- and sisters-of-step into their ball gowns. A formidable task: It was like trying to force ten pounds of processed nonhuman animal carcasses into a five-pound skin. Next came immense cosmetic augmentation, which it would be best not to describe at all. As evening fell, her mother-and-sisters-of-step left Cinderella at home to finish her housework. Cinderella was sad, but she contented herself with her Holly Near records.
Suddenly there was a flash of light, and in front of Cinderella stood a man dressed in loose-fitting, all-cotton clothes and wearing a wide-brimmed hat. At first Cinderella thought he was a Southern lawyer or a bandleader, but he soon put her straight.
"Hello, Cinderella, I am your fairy godperson, or individual deity proxy, if you prefer. So, you want to go to the ball, eh? And bind yourself into the male concept of beauty? Squeeze into some tight-fitting dress that will cut off your circulation? Jam your feet into high-heeled shoes that will ruin your bone structure? Paint your face with chemicals and makeup that have been tested on nonhuman animals?"
"Oh yes, definitely," she said in an instant. Her fairy godperson heaved a great sigh and decided to put off her political education till another day. With his magic, he enveloped her in a beautiful, bright light and whisked her away to the palace.
Many, many carriages were lined up outside the palace that night; apparently, no one had thought of carpooling. Soon, in a heavy, gilded carriage painfully pulled by a team of horse-slaves, Cinderella arrived. She was dressed in a clinging gown woven of silk stolen from unsuspecting silkworms. Her hair was festooned with pearls plundered from hard-working, defenseless oysters. And on her feet, dangerous though it may seem, she wore slippers made of finely cut crystal.
Every head in the ballroom turned as Cinderella entered. The men stared at this woman who captured perfectly their Barbie-doll ideas of feminine desirability. The women, all trained at an early age to despise their own bodies, looked at Cinderella with envy and spite. Cinderella's own mother- and sisters-of-step, consumed with jealousy, failed to recognize her. Cinderella soon caught the roving eye of the prince, who was busy discussing jousting and dear-baiting with his cronies. Upon seeing her, the prince was struck with a fit of not being able to speak as well as the majority of the population. "Here" he thought, "is a woman that I could make my princess and impregnate with the progeny of our perfect genes, and thus make myself the envy of every other prince for miles around. And she's blonde, too!"
The prince began to cross the ballroom tward his intended prey. His cronies also began to walk toward Cinderella. So did every other male in the ballroom who was younger than 70 and not serving drinks.Cinderella was proud of the commotion she was causing. She walked with head high and carried herself like a woman of eminent social standing. But soon it became clear that the commotion was turning into something ugly, or at least socially dysfunctional. The prince had made it clear to his friends that he was intent of "possessing" the young woman. But the price's resolutness angered his pals, for they too wanted to own her. The men began to shout and push each other. The prince's best friend, who was a large if cerebrally constrained duke, stopped him halfway across the dance floor and insisted that HE was going to have Cinderella. The prince's response was a swift kick to the grion, which left the duke temporarily inactive. But the prince was quickly seized by other crazed males, and he disappeared into a pile of human animals. The women were appalled by this vicious display of testosterone, but try as they might, they were unable to separate the combatants. To the other women, it seemed that Cinderella was the cause of all the trouble, so they encircled her and began to display very unsisterly hostility. She tried to escape, but her impractival glass slippers made it nearly impossible. Fortunately for her, none of the other women were shod any better.
The noise grew so loud that no one heard the clock in the tower chime midnight. When the bell rang the twelfth time, Cinderella's beautiful gown and slippers disappeared, and she was dressed once again in her peasant's rags. Her mother- and sisters-of-step recognized her now, but kept quiet to aviod embarrassment.The women grew silent at this magical transformation. Freed from the cinfinements of her gown and slippers, Cinderella sighed and stretched and scratched her ribs. She smiled, closed her eyes and said, "Kill me now if you want, sisters, but at least I'll die in comfort."
The women around her again grew envious, but this time they took a different approach; Instead of exacting vengeance on her, they stripped off their bodices, corsets, shoes, and every other confining garment. They danced and jumped and screeched in sheer joy, comfortable at last in their shifts and bare feet.Had the men looked up from their macho dance of destruchion, they would have seen many desirable women dressed as if for the boudoir. But they never ceased pounding, punching, kicking, and clawing each other until, to the last man, they were dead.
The women clucked their tongues but felt no remorse. The palace and realm were theirs now. Their first official act was to dress the men in their discarded dresses and tell the media that the fight arose when someone threatened to expose the cross-dressing tendencies of the prince and his cronies. Their second act was to set up a clothing co-op that produced only comfortable, practical clothes for women. Then they hung a sign on the castle advertising CinderWear (for that was what the new clothing was called), and through self-determination and clever marketing, they all-- even the mother- and sisters-of-step--lived happily ever after.
-Politically Correct Bedtime Stories by James Finn Garner

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Spread the good news!

Everyone has inside them a piece of good news.
The good news is you don't know how great you can be!
How much you can love!
What you can accomplish!
And what your potential is!
-Anne Frank

Sunday, December 14, 2008

You Are Being Robbed

The true meaning of Christmas?!?!

"It's the most wonderful time of the year!"
All the radio stations are playing the same Christmas songs over and over and over. And when you drive down the road ever business screams "come shop here" or "we have the best discounts" or "come save your self from spontaneously combusting because of all the "good cheer" that is being spread!" (ok maybe not...). All of it drives me insane! It makes me want to scream. But there is no getting around any of it. The mind set of our society has us all sucked in. We can't avoid it. You can't not buy the ones you love a present, but deep inside that is really what I want to do! You can't skip Christmas. I want to go rent a cabin somewhere far off in the distance and sleep for the next two weeks. (or at least until Walmart gets the "Christmas sent" out of their store). Now don't get me's not that I hate Christmas, but I hate what the world has turned it into. This was never what Christ had in mind. And it wasn't what President Ulysses S. Grant wanted when he declared Christmas a legal holiday in 1870. So where did we go wrong? When did our world turn Christmas into a shopping frenzy where every women has a chance to find the best deals they will all year long? I don't know exactly when this happened, and I doubt it was an exact moment in time. More like a gradual downhill slope that has now gotten us where we are today.
So spread some real Christmas cheer. Don't get sucked in this year. It's less than two weeks until Christmas, and I have zip shopping done...but you know what? I don't care! Maybe a card will warm wishes will be all my friends get this year!

Thoughts for Sunday night....

Well the weather outside is fright full for anyone living in the sad state of Missouri/Kansas.
It's cold outside and my heart is just as cold. It seems like every time a holiday rolls around I end up feeling sorry for my self and getting depressed (in a stretch of the word). I forget what the purpose of my life is...
Why do people like me? Sometimes I wonder...
After watching You've God Mail last week I've been thinking a lot about my life.
"Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Well, not small, but valuable. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void."
This is exactly the way I feel about my life. It's hard to deal with the fact that people will let you down. Sooner or later, no matter how close they are to you, they will always let you down. It because we are a fallen race. It's not really our fault...but sometimes it's hard to see things this way.
Sometimes I wonder about love. It's this strange thing that God has placed in our world...and sometimes I wonder if He just put it here to get a good laugh out of the human race. No one fully understands how it works, why we feel empty without it, and why we love who we love.
Last week Becca and I, during our weekly "therapy session", we asked the question "if I died...what would happen?" No one goes around telling their friends "if you died, I would miss you, and so would all the human race". But that's what we think in our hearts. What true friend would you not feel this about? We just forget to tell them this. We take for granted all that we have been given. We don't realize how much we depend on those we love, until they are taken away from us. I don't know if my friends will read this, but I love you all, so much. Even if you do let me down, even if I never impact your life, I still love you, and I can't imagine my life with out any of you.

St. Joe Spike

The girls from the Club volleyball team I played for last year (Eclipse) all moved up to the 18's division this year, and so I was in search of a new team. My mom and I looked on the web at all the different clubs in the North Kansas City area, and decided that none of them were what we were looking for. So I decided to try out for St. Joe Spike. I knew a girl that played for them last year, and she had a pretty great experience. After going to the tryout at Central High school, Sarah (the coach) offered me a spot on her 17's team playing outside hitter. I accepted her offer and am now playing for her. We have had two practices so far, and I am loving it all. They are very organized, and all the girls are very nice. I already knew some of the players from past events, and so that is helping with my fitting in.
We will play 6 tournaments from now until April when the season ends. Our first one being in Topeka on January 3.

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Facebook Fast

Today Becca convinced me to give up Facebook for one whole week. I have become too dependent on it, and should instead be talking to people face to face, or over the phone. I think too many things on Facebook can have two different meanings, and can be taken too many different ways. So, I am staying off of Facebook for one whole week. Becca thinks that this will break my "addiction", and that my life will be better off after this. We shall see!

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Pacheblel Rant

You've Got Mail

There is nothing like a good movie that reminds you of your life. I have seen this movie so many times, that it is sad, but I still continue to watch it. Sad days, happy days, tired works for all of them. Plus, Meg Ryan's Starbucks drink in this movie is a caramel macchiato! (and if you didn't know that was my shouldn't be reading this blog because you don't know me at all!

I like Patricia. I *love* Patricia. Patricia makes COFFEE nervous.

The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall. Decaf. Cappuccino.

Because we're going to sell them cheap books and legal addictive stimulants. In the meantime, we'll just put up a big sign: "Coming soon, a FoxBooks superstore and the end of civilization as you know it."

I think he's married. Married three kids.

She was the nanny?

I'm going to geteucalyptus candles cuz it makes my apartment smell Moss-a.

Nelson Fox: Perfect. Keep those West-Side liberal nuts, psudo-intellectuals...
Joe Fox: Readers, Dad. They're called readers.
Nelson Fox: Don't do that, son. Don't romanticize them.

Kathleen Kelly: [about "NY152"] He couldn't possibly be the Rooftop Killer!
Christina Plutzker: Remember when you thought Frank might be the Unibomber?
Kathleen Kelly: That was different

Thursday, December 4, 2008

I'll Tell Me Ma

I'll tell me ma when I go home
The boys won't leave the girls alone
They pulled my hair and they stole my comb
Well that's alright till I go home

She is handsome, she is pretty
She is the belle of Belfast City
She is two three!
Please won't you tell me, who is she

Albert Mooney says he loves her
All the boys are fighting for her
They knock at the door and they ring at the bell
Sayin' "Oh my true love, are you well?"
Out she comes as white as snow
Rings on her fingers, bells on her toes
Old Johnny Murray says she'll die
If she doesn't get the fellow witth the rovin' eye

I'll tell me ma when I go home
The boys won't leave the girls alone
They pulled my hair and they stole my comb
Well that's alright till I go home

She is handsome, she is pretty
She is the belle of Belfast city
She is two three!
Please won't you tell me, who is she

Let the wind and the rain and the hail blow high
And the snow come tumblin' from the sky
She's as nice as apple pie,
She'll get her own lad by and by
When she gets a lad of her own
She won't tell her ma when she comes home
Let them all come as they will
For it's Albert Mooney she loves still

I'll tell me ma when I go home
The boys won't leave the girls alone
They pulled my hair and they stole my comb
Well that's all right till I go home

She is handsome, she is pretty
She is the belle of Belfast City
She is, two, three!
Please won't you tell me, who is she

We had to sing this song at Lit class last night. I thought the lyrics were funny, so I'm putting them up on here!

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

The Prisoner of Zenda

Tonight, for the first time, I went to the homeschool literature class in Kansas City. It was really great, and I am plannning on attending in the future as well. I didn't have a chance to read the book, but this is the one that we were talking about this evening.
Everyone seemed to really like this book. It is such an anti-Disney book! In the end, the two lovers don't end up together. It is about putting your duty above love, and your own feelings. How life doesn't always end up the way we wish it would. That sometimes we find more pleasure in doing what is right, than in doing what we think is right. I am very much looking forward to reading this book. I think I should have time to read it over the Christmas break, so I will let you know what I think of it.