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Writer's Block: The Meaning of Life
Feb. 10th, 2012 05:09 pm[Error: unknown template qotd]
Gets asthma attacks, bike rides anyway. {Also my six-word autobiography.}
Gets asthma attacks, bike rides anyway. {Also my six-word autobiography.}
Writer's Block: Poetry Break
Jan. 10th, 2012 11:33 pm[Error: unknown template qotd]
Always happy to share a poem. I went to my copy of Good Poems for Hard Times and opened it at random.
The Longly-Weds Know
By Leah Furnas
That it isn’t about the Golden Anniversary at all,
But about all the unremarkable years
that Hallmark doesn’t even make a card for.
It’s about the 2nd anniversary when they were surprised
to find they cared for each other more than last year.
And the 4th when both kids had chickenpox
and she threw her shoe at him for no real reason.
And the 6th when he accidentally got drunk on the way home from work
because being a husband and father was so damn hard.
It’s about the 11th and 12th and 13th years
when they discovered they could survive crisis.
And the 22nd anniversary when they looked
at each other across the empty nest, and found it good.
It’s about the 37th year when she finally
decided she could never change him.
And the 38th when he decided a little change wasn’t that bad.
It’s about the 46th anniversary when they both bought cards, and forgot to give them to each other.
But most of all it’s about the end of the 49th year when they discovered
you don’t have to be old to have your 50th anniversary!!!!!
Always happy to share a poem. I went to my copy of Good Poems for Hard Times and opened it at random.
The Longly-Weds Know
By Leah Furnas
That it isn’t about the Golden Anniversary at all,
But about all the unremarkable years
that Hallmark doesn’t even make a card for.
It’s about the 2nd anniversary when they were surprised
to find they cared for each other more than last year.
And the 4th when both kids had chickenpox
and she threw her shoe at him for no real reason.
And the 6th when he accidentally got drunk on the way home from work
because being a husband and father was so damn hard.
It’s about the 11th and 12th and 13th years
when they discovered they could survive crisis.
And the 22nd anniversary when they looked
at each other across the empty nest, and found it good.
It’s about the 37th year when she finally
decided she could never change him.
And the 38th when he decided a little change wasn’t that bad.
It’s about the 46th anniversary when they both bought cards, and forgot to give them to each other.
But most of all it’s about the end of the 49th year when they discovered
you don’t have to be old to have your 50th anniversary!!!!!
Writer's Block: Background players
Nov. 27th, 2011 08:25 pmMy background images consist of 43 different photographs I've taken in different locations (on bike rides through my neighborhood, during my stay in Europe, in some of the cemeteries I've visted) over the years. I have them set to change every three minutes. Right now, my background happens to be this:
It's a roundabout in Villers Cotterêts, just down the street from the Lycée Européen. This was taken in the spring of the year (April, I think) and all the flowers were in bloom. It was so pretty. Come back in a few minutes, and it'll be something else.
It's a roundabout in Villers Cotterêts, just down the street from the Lycée Européen. This was taken in the spring of the year (April, I think) and all the flowers were in bloom. It was so pretty. Come back in a few minutes, and it'll be something else.
[Error: unknown template qotd]Ugh. Seriously, LiveJournal, I'm not sure which frustrates me more: your impossibly user-unfriendly new RTE, or the increasing commercialization of your Writer's Block prompts.
I can't believe I'm back here after I swore not to make another post until LJ got rid of its new RTE and all the drama it's generating. Rebecca has no willpower! But you already knew that, didn't you?
It's still plenty hot here, but since it's no longer quite hot as Hades, I'm doing an experiment to see how long I can go without driving Muse Watson. For four days this week (Monday-Thursday), I didn't touch my car at all and went everywhere by bike. And I actually enjoyed it! Yes, it took a lot longer to reach my destinations, but I felt much healthier and less stressed than when I'm driving. I also arrived for work much earlier than usual, since I always over-estimate how long it'll take me to bike somewhere. And I'm not if it's because of the biking or not, but my fanficiton muses are finally working again! We'll see how long I can keep this up.
At services tonight, out of nowhere, Rabbi W called on me to take the Torah scroll out of the ark for the parsha reading. I actually ignored him the first few times he called my name; I didn't mean to, but I just assumed he meant a different Rebecca, as this Rebecca has no experience in handling Torah scrolls. Then I remembered that I'm the only Rebecca in our congregation right now. I guess it's all part of being a Jew, and I think I did well enough, but boy, was I nervous. The Torah scroll is heavy and cumbersome, especially if you've never held it before. Jacob (Sassy Jewish Grandfather #3) canted the blessing over it before the rabbi read the parsha, and the whole time I was standing there thinking, "If I drop this in front of everyone... oh God, please don't let me drop it..." My arms were very sore by the time we put it back in the ark, but at least I didn't drop it. After services, several people told me I did very well. I probably I looked as nervous as I felt.
On a slightly related note, I'm currently reading This Is Where I Leave You, by Jonathan Tropper, about a very dysfunctional, secular Jewish family who decide to sit shiva and have a traditional Jewish funeral when their patriarch dies. It's hilarious!
FOUR ... DAYS ... LEFT until the Season 9 premiere of NCIS!
I can't believe I'm back here after I swore not to make another post until LJ got rid of its new RTE and all the drama it's generating. Rebecca has no willpower! But you already knew that, didn't you?
It's still plenty hot here, but since it's no longer quite hot as Hades, I'm doing an experiment to see how long I can go without driving Muse Watson. For four days this week (Monday-Thursday), I didn't touch my car at all and went everywhere by bike. And I actually enjoyed it! Yes, it took a lot longer to reach my destinations, but I felt much healthier and less stressed than when I'm driving. I also arrived for work much earlier than usual, since I always over-estimate how long it'll take me to bike somewhere. And I'm not if it's because of the biking or not, but my fanficiton muses are finally working again! We'll see how long I can keep this up.
At services tonight, out of nowhere, Rabbi W called on me to take the Torah scroll out of the ark for the parsha reading. I actually ignored him the first few times he called my name; I didn't mean to, but I just assumed he meant a different Rebecca, as this Rebecca has no experience in handling Torah scrolls. Then I remembered that I'm the only Rebecca in our congregation right now. I guess it's all part of being a Jew, and I think I did well enough, but boy, was I nervous. The Torah scroll is heavy and cumbersome, especially if you've never held it before. Jacob (Sassy Jewish Grandfather #3) canted the blessing over it before the rabbi read the parsha, and the whole time I was standing there thinking, "If I drop this in front of everyone... oh God, please don't let me drop it..." My arms were very sore by the time we put it back in the ark, but at least I didn't drop it. After services, several people told me I did very well. I probably I looked as nervous as I felt.
On a slightly related note, I'm currently reading This Is Where I Leave You, by Jonathan Tropper, about a very dysfunctional, secular Jewish family who decide to sit shiva and have a traditional Jewish funeral when their patriarch dies. It's hilarious!
FOUR ... DAYS ... LEFT until the Season 9 premiere of NCIS!
Writer's Block: It's cold outside
Apr. 8th, 2011 11:20 pm[Error: unknown template qotd]
I live in Louisiana, so it's funny to hear people in places like Minnesota complaining about the heat. I had my air conditioner on on Thanksgiving Day last year.
I live in Louisiana, so it's funny to hear people in places like Minnesota complaining about the heat. I had my air conditioner on on Thanksgiving Day last year.
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What? There are four seasons? Not just hot and cold? Just kidding. You can see the seasons here in Louisiana, but you have to look (really! hard!) for them. I have a tag for each season in this LJ for that purpose.
Any guesses as to how Rebecca spent her evening? She was eating some very spicy boiled crabs off old newspapers, with three old Cajun ladies and one five-year-old one (my cousins from Alabama are in town). We were all buried up to our elbows in crab meat and pieces of shell, and my lips felt like they were on fire! Here are some snippets of conversation I want to remember.
Karla: Do I smell like crab?
Mackenzie (the five-year-old): No, you don't smell like crab, but the crabs do. They have pinchers to fight with, 'cause they think we're gonna kill 'em. And we do.
Grandma: I remember, after Hurricane Audrey in '57, my mama swore off crabs and crawfish for over a year.
Rebecca: (not getting it) Really? Why?
Grandma: 'Cause they're scavengers.
Rebecca: (still not getting it) So?
Grandma: Well, over 400 people drowned in Hurricane Audrey. You know, in the water. (I like to imagine her thinking, "What the hell? Do I have to draw her a picture?")
Rebecca: (with awakening horror) Oh, wait... you mean... oh, gross! That's disgusting!
Last week I began job-hunting in earnest. Lately I've begun to feel that no job on earth could be worse than the one I have now, and I know that's an exaggeration (my job isn't that bad, and there are certainly worse ones out there) but that's just how it feels to me. I would've started looking sooner, but I really hate job-hunting. I can't stop thinking back to the gut-clenching marathon of misery that was the Job Hunt of Summer '08. I keep telling myself that it won't be that bad, it couldn't possibly be because #1) I already have a job, something I didn't have that summer, and #2) I'm not living with Mom anymore, like I was then. Two big weights off my shoulders right there.
The job hunt has already had its ups and downs. The idea of new possibilities is hopeful and invigorating, but the application process is stressful and time-consuming. It's almost like having a second job. I hope to search thoroughly and consistently, but since I just started, I haven't even heard back from a single person yet, and I'm sure it'll be hard to keep the search up once the constant rejections start rolling in.
Still, I hope that 2011 will be a year of good things. It might even see Rebecca officially convert to Judaism. I hadn't intended to jump into that so soon, but Imade the mistake of mentioned it to my rabbi, and now he seems to have hold of the idea like a dog with a bone. Say a little prayer that Rebecca's doing the right thing, because you all know how I go through phases, and there are some people out there that I would hate to disappoint.
What? There are four seasons? Not just hot and cold? Just kidding. You can see the seasons here in Louisiana, but you have to look (really! hard!) for them. I have a tag for each season in this LJ for that purpose.
Any guesses as to how Rebecca spent her evening? She was eating some very spicy boiled crabs off old newspapers, with three old Cajun ladies and one five-year-old one (my cousins from Alabama are in town). We were all buried up to our elbows in crab meat and pieces of shell, and my lips felt like they were on fire! Here are some snippets of conversation I want to remember.
Karla: Do I smell like crab?
Mackenzie (the five-year-old): No, you don't smell like crab, but the crabs do. They have pinchers to fight with, 'cause they think we're gonna kill 'em. And we do.
Grandma: I remember, after Hurricane Audrey in '57, my mama swore off crabs and crawfish for over a year.
Rebecca: (not getting it) Really? Why?
Grandma: 'Cause they're scavengers.
Rebecca: (still not getting it) So?
Grandma: Well, over 400 people drowned in Hurricane Audrey. You know, in the water. (I like to imagine her thinking, "What the hell? Do I have to draw her a picture?")
Rebecca: (with awakening horror) Oh, wait... you mean... oh, gross! That's disgusting!
Last week I began job-hunting in earnest. Lately I've begun to feel that no job on earth could be worse than the one I have now, and I know that's an exaggeration (my job isn't that bad, and there are certainly worse ones out there) but that's just how it feels to me. I would've started looking sooner, but I really hate job-hunting. I can't stop thinking back to the gut-clenching marathon of misery that was the Job Hunt of Summer '08. I keep telling myself that it won't be that bad, it couldn't possibly be because #1) I already have a job, something I didn't have that summer, and #2) I'm not living with Mom anymore, like I was then. Two big weights off my shoulders right there.
The job hunt has already had its ups and downs. The idea of new possibilities is hopeful and invigorating, but the application process is stressful and time-consuming. It's almost like having a second job. I hope to search thoroughly and consistently, but since I just started, I haven't even heard back from a single person yet, and I'm sure it'll be hard to keep the search up once the constant rejections start rolling in.
Still, I hope that 2011 will be a year of good things. It might even see Rebecca officially convert to Judaism. I hadn't intended to jump into that so soon, but I
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Living in Louisiana, I have to say: The Saints won the Superbowl! When you grow up hearing jokes about what a crappy team they are, this isn't something you reconcile yourself to easily.
Living in Louisiana, I have to say: The Saints won the Superbowl! When you grow up hearing jokes about what a crappy team they are, this isn't something you reconcile yourself to easily.
Writer's Block: That's good eats
Nov. 28th, 2010 10:23 pm[Error: unknown template qotd]
My favorite childhood meal was easily my grandma's spaghetti and meatballs. (No one else's. Don't even try.) She used to make huge pots of spaghetti sauce and noodles, and I would wake up early and walk over to her house to help. Then everyone would come over to eat, and it was like there was a party at Grandma's house. That's still the case, to a lesser extent, when Grandma makes spaghetti, except I haven't woken up early enough to help her make it in years. Bad, bad Rebecca. Somebody should learn that recipe before Grandma dies, but I doubt anyone will ever really be able to duplicate her spaghetti.
I also loved pickles as a child (and still do). I was about eight the first time I ate an entire jar in one sitting, but I guess that doesn't really count as a meal, does it?
I still love Grandma's spaghetti, but I'm not sure if it still ranks as my number one favorite meal. As a child, I hadn't yet discovered a lot of delicious meals like goat cheese pizza, buffalo chicken, pulled pork sandwiches, or green bean casserole. Mmm...
My favorite childhood meal was easily my grandma's spaghetti and meatballs. (No one else's. Don't even try.) She used to make huge pots of spaghetti sauce and noodles, and I would wake up early and walk over to her house to help. Then everyone would come over to eat, and it was like there was a party at Grandma's house. That's still the case, to a lesser extent, when Grandma makes spaghetti, except I haven't woken up early enough to help her make it in years. Bad, bad Rebecca. Somebody should learn that recipe before Grandma dies, but I doubt anyone will ever really be able to duplicate her spaghetti.
I also loved pickles as a child (and still do). I was about eight the first time I ate an entire jar in one sitting, but I guess that doesn't really count as a meal, does it?
I still love Grandma's spaghetti, but I'm not sure if it still ranks as my number one favorite meal. As a child, I hadn't yet discovered a lot of delicious meals like goat cheese pizza, buffalo chicken, pulled pork sandwiches, or green bean casserole. Mmm...
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I got it narrowed down to two choices, but I can't decide between them. #1) Driving to New Orleans with Aunt Carolyn, Sara, and Athena. We had so much fun back in the day. #2) Driving to Star Island with Dad (which would be an extremely long drive, almost all the way from the Gulf of Mexico to the Canadian border). I keep thinking about our drive to Shreveport. I read him articles out of his latest New Yorker.
I know the prompt specified one person, but that was no fun. Is it just me, or has LJ had some very lame Writer's Block questions lately?
Within two weeks of each other, we got a flat tire on the truck and I let my driver's liscense expire. Of course, said things would happen in the same month that we have to get our truck inspected, too. But today I actually managed to take care of all three things: got a new liscense (my old photo wasn't that good, but this one is horrible!), got new tires, and got the truck inspected. Now if I could just find time to give Sable a bath.
Rebecca is one spoiled bitch. Among the edible things I got for my birthday were a dinner of sloppy joes with Grandma & Co.; lunch at DeAngelo's with Mom and Sara; dinner at Cici's with Sara and Athena; and two packages of goat cheese from Ben. I baked them in the oven before eating them, so the entire apartment was filled with the smell of fresh goat cheese. You can't imagine the bliss Rebecca was swimming in. If Heaven were a smell, that would be it. But if Heaven were a pie, it'd be cherry. If Heaven were a towel...
Gotta go wash dishes now.
I got it narrowed down to two choices, but I can't decide between them. #1) Driving to New Orleans with Aunt Carolyn, Sara, and Athena. We had so much fun back in the day. #2) Driving to Star Island with Dad (which would be an extremely long drive, almost all the way from the Gulf of Mexico to the Canadian border). I keep thinking about our drive to Shreveport. I read him articles out of his latest New Yorker.
I know the prompt specified one person, but that was no fun. Is it just me, or has LJ had some very lame Writer's Block questions lately?
Within two weeks of each other, we got a flat tire on the truck and I let my driver's liscense expire. Of course, said things would happen in the same month that we have to get our truck inspected, too. But today I actually managed to take care of all three things: got a new liscense (my old photo wasn't that good, but this one is horrible!), got new tires, and got the truck inspected. Now if I could just find time to give Sable a bath.
Rebecca is one spoiled bitch. Among the edible things I got for my birthday were a dinner of sloppy joes with Grandma & Co.; lunch at DeAngelo's with Mom and Sara; dinner at Cici's with Sara and Athena; and two packages of goat cheese from Ben. I baked them in the oven before eating them, so the entire apartment was filled with the smell of fresh goat cheese. You can't imagine the bliss Rebecca was swimming in. If Heaven were a smell, that would be it. But if Heaven were a pie, it'd be cherry. If Heaven were a towel...
Gotta go wash dishes now.
Writer's Block: Open book test
Oct. 9th, 2010 01:10 am[Error: unknown template qotd]
I just got up and looked over my/our bookshelves, and people would probably wonder, "Who lives here? Adults or little girls?" Sure, we've got some big thick grown-up books (Watership Down, The Red Tent, Moby-Dick) but we also have several books from each of the following series: American Girl, Anne of Green Gables, The Baby-Sitters Club (in English and French!), Calvin & Hobbes, Childcraft, Harry Potter, Indian in the Cupboard, Little House, and Winnie-the-Pooh (used to have all three Wayside School books but don't seem to anymore), as well as books by Lois Lowry and Judy Blume, several collections of children's poetry, and three old middle-school reading textbooks.
Interspersed by stuff like Guide to Getting It On, The Last Word: The New York Times Book of Obituaries and Farewells, and The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath.
Heaven only knows what conclusions they'd draw.
I just got up and looked over my/our bookshelves, and people would probably wonder, "Who lives here? Adults or little girls?" Sure, we've got some big thick grown-up books (Watership Down, The Red Tent, Moby-Dick) but we also have several books from each of the following series: American Girl, Anne of Green Gables, The Baby-Sitters Club (in English and French!), Calvin & Hobbes, Childcraft, Harry Potter, Indian in the Cupboard, Little House, and Winnie-the-Pooh (used to have all three Wayside School books but don't seem to anymore), as well as books by Lois Lowry and Judy Blume, several collections of children's poetry, and three old middle-school reading textbooks.
Interspersed by stuff like Guide to Getting It On, The Last Word: The New York Times Book of Obituaries and Farewells, and The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath.
Heaven only knows what conclusions they'd draw.
When I logged into LiveJournal yesterday, I found 24 new items in my inbox. And that's a lot for me, since my inbox is usually empty. I didn't know what was up (and thought for a fleeting moment that my young actress community had gotten featured) until I went to the homepage and saw...
As a child, did you feel like you were you expected to pursue a certain type of career? How did this make you feel? Did you wind up choosing a different profession or path?
Submitted By ![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
...one of my suggestion questions got featured for Writer's Block! I am so geekily excited by this. I got about eighteen new friend requests (most of them from people in Russia, for some odd reason) but no new members at my young actress community. *sigh*
We did inventory last Saturday at work; I'm glad that's over, but now we're officially in the Back-to-School season. The store was so packed today that when Boss Man asked Josh to stay late, he literally turned and ran. It sucked for me, but I couldn't say anything because I probably would've done the exact same thing. (Probably? Okay, definitely.) And it's not even August yet! The only light at the end of the tunnel is the Season 8 premiere of NCIS.
A few days ago, Sable dug up this old piece of rawhide he had buried against the back fence. I was there when he buried it, otherwise I wouldn't have known what it was, because it was no longer identifiable as rawhide. It had turned solid black and had the foulest, nastiest stench you could possibly imagine. I've smelt my share of stinkiness (I pick up dog shit regularly and have eaten a variety of smelly French cheeses) but nothing even compared to this. And Sable acted like it was manna from Heaven! He would've brought it inside, but I couldn't take the looming odor of death, so I threw it away. I had to wrench the disgusting thing out of his mouth, which made me very nervous because he doesn't have many teeth left. He was so pissed at me after I threw it away. Crazy dog.
Writer's Block: Go to Hell, Sprint!
May. 7th, 2010 12:17 am[Error: unknown template qotd]
I hope that LJ isn't about to start using all their Writer's Block questions to bow down to their sponsors. I thought that these prompts were used by LJ to promote creativity and community, not by Sprint to promote their cell phone apps and wireless network. This prompt doesn't even seem to be relevant to most LJ users: Notice that it barely got a hundred reponses -- and scrolling through them, it looks like most are along the lines of, "None, I use my phone to make calls and apps are retarded" -- while most Writer's Block questions get over a thousand! Ridiculous. (What happened here? Did Frank sell his soul to Sprint? Did they pay him in pants?)
And messing with my tags is just insulting. I happen to pride myself on having a well-organized tag list.
I hope that LJ isn't about to start using all their Writer's Block questions to bow down to their sponsors. I thought that these prompts were used by LJ to promote creativity and community, not by Sprint to promote their cell phone apps and wireless network. This prompt doesn't even seem to be relevant to most LJ users: Notice that it barely got a hundred reponses -- and scrolling through them, it looks like most are along the lines of, "None, I use my phone to make calls and apps are retarded" -- while most Writer's Block questions get over a thousand! Ridiculous. (What happened here? Did Frank sell his soul to Sprint? Did they pay him in pants?)
And messing with my tags is just insulting. I happen to pride myself on having a well-organized tag list.
Writer's Block: Back to the future
Apr. 11th, 2010 11:09 pm[Error: unknown template qotd]
This is a really interesting Writer's Block. Would twelve-year-old Rebecca be disappointed or pleased with modern-day Rebecca? I really don't know. Both, I guess. I honestly don't remember what I wanted to do for a living or where I wanted to live when I was twelve -- which surprises me, because I usually have an excellent memory -- but I doubt the dream was to work a part-time retail job and live in the same neighborhood in 2010 as in 1996. So maybe in that respect, my twelve-year-old self would be disappointed. But I like to think that there are other things for her to be happy about.
First and foremost is that I am happy. (For the most part, anyway.) Looking back now, I don't think twelve-year-old Rebecca was very happy at all. Maybe it was because middle school was hell on earth. But I think it was because she wasn't comfortable with herself yet. That sounds so cheesey, but I can't express it any better. All in all, the journey from twelve to now hasn't been so bad; best of all, it's been short, which means the majority of the journey is still to come. My asthma is infinitely better now than it was then. My sister is still making me laugh. What still hurts the most is Dad and Aunt Carolyn. What doesn't hurt at all anymore is not getting into the LA School, which I thought was the end of my world.
And the craziest thing of all? That hyper, energetic little black puppy that my family got when I was twelve is the same slow, lethargic gray old dog who lives with me today.
This is a really interesting Writer's Block. Would twelve-year-old Rebecca be disappointed or pleased with modern-day Rebecca? I really don't know. Both, I guess. I honestly don't remember what I wanted to do for a living or where I wanted to live when I was twelve -- which surprises me, because I usually have an excellent memory -- but I doubt the dream was to work a part-time retail job and live in the same neighborhood in 2010 as in 1996. So maybe in that respect, my twelve-year-old self would be disappointed. But I like to think that there are other things for her to be happy about.
First and foremost is that I am happy. (For the most part, anyway.) Looking back now, I don't think twelve-year-old Rebecca was very happy at all. Maybe it was because middle school was hell on earth. But I think it was because she wasn't comfortable with herself yet. That sounds so cheesey, but I can't express it any better. All in all, the journey from twelve to now hasn't been so bad; best of all, it's been short, which means the majority of the journey is still to come. My asthma is infinitely better now than it was then. My sister is still making me laugh. What still hurts the most is Dad and Aunt Carolyn. What doesn't hurt at all anymore is not getting into the LA School, which I thought was the end of my world.
And the craziest thing of all? That hyper, energetic little black puppy that my family got when I was twelve is the same slow, lethargic gray old dog who lives with me today.
Writer's Block: Destined for greatness
Mar. 28th, 2010 10:25 pm[Error: unknown template qotd]
The idea that fate or some higher power controls our destinies has always really bothered me. I believe that some people use it as an excuse, a reason not to feel guilty when their lives don't go as planned. Yes, there are many things in our lives that we have no control over (the circumstances we're born into, the actions of those around us, etc.) but in the end, no one has more control over a person's life than that person.
JM Barrie examined this idea in one of my favorites of his plays, Dear Brutus. The title, of course, is taken from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar: "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings." (This is one of Shakespeare's more famous quotes. It was featured prominently in the film Good Night and Good Luck and has popped up in various other places, and I'm suddenly very sad over my Uncle Johnny. I think I will always associate Shakespeare with him. Which he probably would've loved.) This is what the wiser characters of Dear Brutus realize over the course of the play: their destinies are not written in the stars; their destinies are written by each of them.
The idea that fate or some higher power controls our destinies has always really bothered me. I believe that some people use it as an excuse, a reason not to feel guilty when their lives don't go as planned. Yes, there are many things in our lives that we have no control over (the circumstances we're born into, the actions of those around us, etc.) but in the end, no one has more control over a person's life than that person.
JM Barrie examined this idea in one of my favorites of his plays, Dear Brutus. The title, of course, is taken from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar: "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings." (This is one of Shakespeare's more famous quotes. It was featured prominently in the film Good Night and Good Luck and has popped up in various other places, and I'm suddenly very sad over my Uncle Johnny. I think I will always associate Shakespeare with him. Which he probably would've loved.) This is what the wiser characters of Dear Brutus realize over the course of the play: their destinies are not written in the stars; their destinies are written by each of them.
Writer's Block: Two Truths and a Lie
Aug. 5th, 2009 10:46 pm[Error: unknown template qotd]
1) I have two small, almost identical scars in the same place on each hand, and I have no memory of how I got them.
2) I sleep with my eyes half-open. As a kid at summer camp I was woken up one night because the other campers thought I might be dead.
3) I passed out on my first day of high school. I went to a Catholic school, and overwhelming nerves + mass in the hot, stuffy gym = too much for me.
I had to think for a long time before coming up with two truths interesting enough to list. I'm a very boring person.
Le jour de gloire est arrivé !
Jul. 14th, 2009 11:34 pm[Error: unknown template qotd]
Mes ancêtres, les cimetières, le fromage de chèvre, Groupama (toujours, toujours là pour moi), Jane Birkin et ses filles, Paris, Roue de la fortune et Adeck, Victoire Thivisol, et bien sûr ma Villers-Cotterets ! Allez les bleus, et vive la France !
Translation/Explanation in English. My ancestors, the cemeteries, the goat cheese, Groupama (always, always there for me), Jane Birkin and her daughters, Paris, Wheel of Fortune and Adeck, Victoire Thivisol, and of course my Villers-Cotterets! Go Blues, and long live France!
Groupama was a French bank, and "always, always there for me" was the very catchy jingle sung in their commercials. (Trust me, it sounds better in French.) Banque Populaire, whom I banked with while in France, also had a good commercial. It opened with Cinderella sweeping a floor, when her two wicked stepsisters came in and began making a mess, saying "You missed a spot," and etc. Cinderella gets mad, throws down her broom, and rips off her ragged old dress, revealing a beautiful ball gown underneath. She storms out of the room, and her stepsisters call, "Cendrillon, tu vas ou comme ca?" (= Cinderella, where are you going dressed like that?) and she replies over her shoulder, "Je vais a Banque Populaire!" (= I'm going to Banque Populaire!).
Jane Birkin was born British but speaks French fluently and has had a long stellar career in France. She has three daughters with three different men: Kate Barry, a photographer; Charlotte Gainsbourg, an actress; and Lou Doillon, a model. They are all French and all fabulous, and considered the First Ladies of French beauty and fashion.
Roue de la Fortune is the French Wheel of Fortune. Its format is almost identical to the American version, but whereas the American version caters to your grandma, the French show is young and hip. Its Pat Sajak is a young guy named Christophe, and its Vanna White is a Swedish underwear model named Victoria. The third host is Adeck, Christophe's Jack Russell terrier. He comes on every show, sometimes wandering into the audience or among the camera crew, but he spends most of his time on his little chair, next to Christophe's chair behind the wheel.
Mes ancêtres, les cimetières, le fromage de chèvre, Groupama (toujours, toujours là pour moi), Jane Birkin et ses filles, Paris, Roue de la fortune et Adeck, Victoire Thivisol, et bien sûr ma Villers-Cotterets ! Allez les bleus, et vive la France !
Translation/Explanation in English. My ancestors, the cemeteries, the goat cheese, Groupama (always, always there for me), Jane Birkin and her daughters, Paris, Wheel of Fortune and Adeck, Victoire Thivisol, and of course my Villers-Cotterets! Go Blues, and long live France!
Groupama was a French bank, and "always, always there for me" was the very catchy jingle sung in their commercials. (Trust me, it sounds better in French.) Banque Populaire, whom I banked with while in France, also had a good commercial. It opened with Cinderella sweeping a floor, when her two wicked stepsisters came in and began making a mess, saying "You missed a spot," and etc. Cinderella gets mad, throws down her broom, and rips off her ragged old dress, revealing a beautiful ball gown underneath. She storms out of the room, and her stepsisters call, "Cendrillon, tu vas ou comme ca?" (= Cinderella, where are you going dressed like that?) and she replies over her shoulder, "Je vais a Banque Populaire!" (= I'm going to Banque Populaire!).
Jane Birkin was born British but speaks French fluently and has had a long stellar career in France. She has three daughters with three different men: Kate Barry, a photographer; Charlotte Gainsbourg, an actress; and Lou Doillon, a model. They are all French and all fabulous, and considered the First Ladies of French beauty and fashion.
Roue de la Fortune is the French Wheel of Fortune. Its format is almost identical to the American version, but whereas the American version caters to your grandma, the French show is young and hip. Its Pat Sajak is a young guy named Christophe, and its Vanna White is a Swedish underwear model named Victoria. The third host is Adeck, Christophe's Jack Russell terrier. He comes on every show, sometimes wandering into the audience or among the camera crew, but he spends most of his time on his little chair, next to Christophe's chair behind the wheel.
