Much Madness is divinest Sense-

A Room of One's Own

2008-07-15T20:42:00.000-07:00

"A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction."

True? If so, I can say that writing fiction is not in my future; but, when money is seen as the power to contemplate, and a lock on the door means the power to think for oneself.....then yes, this statement is as true today as it was for Virginia Woolf in 1929. Although Woolf was writing in a time when women writer's did not have nearly as much freedom as men, her words still resonate in the mind of any aspiring writer:

"So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say. But to sacrifice a hair of the head of your vision, a shade of its colour, in deference to some Headmaster with a silver pot in his hand or to some professor with a measuring-rod up his sleeve, is the most abject treachery, and the sacrifice of wealth and chastity which used to be said to be the greatest of human disasters, a mere flea-bite in comparison."

more to come when I'm not so tired...

2008-05-31T08:03:00.000-07:00

It's been a little while since my last post. Lately it's been hard to find the time to do any reading...being that all of my free time is going to fixing up our house, but soon it will be finished.

In the free time that I do get (usually at work when there's nothing to do), I'm working through Guns, Germs, and Steel, by Jared Diamond as well as some various short story reading here and there.

BUT I'm planning for a summer full of reading. It's time to do some Amazon shopping.

More posts to come...

2008-04-27T18:53:00.001-07:00

So my pastor said something interesting this morning-he said that we are all people trying to find our way home. Technically, we are all homeless. He couldn't have been more right, at least not from my perspective. I am constantly feeling homeless. But the fact is that we can never feel like we are completely home if we are seeking out only physical places. The point of his sermon was that our real home can only be found in the arms of Jesus. It is only in him that we have a true home. I found some real comfort in his words, for as I get older, I feel like life becomes more and more of a strong current beneath my feet. Circumstances are constantly shifting, and I am forever seeking some safe solid rock to rest on. There really is no stronger foundation than the Jesus, no greater purpose than His.

2008-04-04T16:51:00.000-07:00

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

-Emily Dickinson

2008-03-18T14:51:00.000-07:00

So it turns out I'm not a faithful blogger. Life's been busy. Since the last time I wrote I've read Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, and The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri.

Housekeeping was melancholy and yet touching in an unconventional sort of way. Robinson portrays humanity in its raw form in the face of tragedy. Something in the way she offers insights into her characters draws you in and makes you feel like you can touch their souls. The bond between Sylvie and Ruth is especially powerful. Their journey together makes transience somehow appealing, even more so when compared with Lucille's haughty and stagnant lifestyle.

I don't know if I can even get into The Bell Jar now. But I can say that in some odd way, reading someone else's story about a personal descent into madness was strangely liberating. Maybe it's the way Plath makes her insanity so accessible to the reader...she does such a marvelous job at making even the darkest of times for Esther seem vivid and practical. I think in some way Plath makes madness a possibility for even the sanest of people.

I have to say, I was slightly disapointed with the ending of The Namesake. Not to sound all sentimental, but I don't think it offered very much hope for love. Gogol, or Nikhil later in the novel, seemed to me a bit void of feelings and a rather empty character. He was more roused at the idea of changing his name then he was at his father's death. His parents exhibit deep emotional ties to their relatives from India throughout the novel, but Gogol just seems to remain numb to emotion towards his family. Even the lovers he encounters preoccupy him for a while, but then he seems to be a passive spectator to the relationship after they end and he shows little remorse. I could be being a bit too harsh, or I could be missing the point, either way though it is my opinion, and overall I still enjoyed the book and plan to watch the movie.

the big philosophical question of the day: Are we born with certain talents and inclinations that we are called to use to bring a purpose to our lives?

Personally I'd like to think yes. I'm tired of resigning to the status quo.

James Joyce fans?

2008-01-16T20:34:00.000-08:00

So I'm having one of those days where I feel like I'm not fufilling my full potential in life (actually I have a lot of those days). When I'm at work, I find myself just drifting off to these imaginary places where I can completely indulge in my creative side without any financial or life changing repercussions. I've always been a daydreamer, but the difference is that I now I have a stronger grasp on reality, and I feel like I've become less and less of an artist.

Speaking of artists...I just finished A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce. Said to be basically an autobiography of Joyce himself, the novel depicts the life of Stephen Dedalus as he grows up in Ireland and eventually walks away from his Catholic heritage and goes to England to pursue a life as a writer. My summary simplifies the novel too much. There is really a lot more to analyze regarding Stephen's(or Joyce's) issues with Ireland and the oppressive Catholic religion under which he grew up, but my personal connection to the novel deals with his development as an artist. I actually find myself wondering if Stephen(Joyce) becomes a writer in response to his life or if he is a born artist who feels he cannot flourish in his own country. But either way, when he begins to discover his calling and form his own ideas about beauty and art, it is obvious that he was not in sync with the political and religious system in place. I realize that Joyce's story is significant in the context of his historical time period and location, but I feel like as an artist myself, I can relate to his situation.

My opinion may be biased, but I think that many artists come up against some force in their lives that fights against them as a creator. For me its the fear of instability. I'm not sure what it is for others...if there is even anything. But reading Joyce's novel has caused me to reflect on the processes that artists go through as they develop, and the novel has shed some more light on the character of Joyce himself. The story of the artist adds a certain richness to his work by revealing the historical and political factors that caused him to leave Ireland, but continue to write about the country long after.

Day One

2008-01-12T19:53:00.000-08:00

For some reason, I've always felt the need to write something profound on the first page of any journal I've ever begun...as if the world is just waiting for me to die so that everyone can burst through my door, rip my personal journals off the shelf and open them up to see what I've written on the first pages. Of course the reality is that the world is not waiting outside my door, and really no one(with the exception of my dog), knows I even keep a journal. But, since I seem preoccupied with the idea of writing to an audience, I thought I'd try the world of blogging. Not that the cyber world is necessarily an audience, but at least I am voicing my thoughts to something more than lined paper. Anyway, I read a lot of literature, and I think way too much about everything, so...here it goes....