Thursday, January 21, 2010

101 Posts and Concerning Fairy Tales

Yay! I made it! Sure it only took me a few years, but who's counting, eh?

Concerning Fairy Tales.

We often speak of them as the dreams of little girls, full of pink and tulle and beautiful princesses or princesses to be who are swept off their feet by the perfect man. It'll never happen, people scoff. True love doesn't exist. There are no fairy godmothers. The world isn't perfect so get over yourself and find a real job, maybe you'll run into someone who won't divorce you. And for heavens sake, don't act like a prissy girl.

Have you looked at the fairy tales? Not Disney, fairy tales. Do they look rosy to you? Are they happy? Does everything sparkle with fairy dust? Does the shoe always fit? No.

They're horrible. These are the tales of young women locked up or cast aside who must persevere. They are raised in the most horrid conditions, treated in a children services worthy manner. They may not have enough to eat, or warm clothes to wear, or even a bed to sleep in. Look at the old illustrations. They're hideous. The witch looks like something out off a nightmare, the thorns cut cruelly, there are creatures crawling out of the woodwork. Look at the heroin. She's terrified. But she's beautiful. She's sweet. She's kind. She is something different, something that doesn't exist in her world. She shouldn't be. She should look just like everything else in her world. Cold, cruel, jaded.

So what do these stories teach? That every little girl is a princess and will have a wonderful life when her husband magically appears and takes her away? No. It teaches her that she must persevere. That no matter how bad it gets, no matter how badly she's treated, that she can be pure. That she can face hardship with courage, if not without tears. That sometimes the right way won't make sense, but you must follow the guidance given by others. That a prince, a man worth having, a man of honor, will look for the maiden who is not like anyone else. He will look for a woman of virtue in a land of vice. That the husband is the reward, not the goal. It is always the step-sisters who are chasing after the men and see how they fare.

The saying is, after all, and they lived happily ever after. If you take a good look at their lives before the prince comes in, it would be hard pressed to make it any worse.

Just some thoughts.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Ahh.

My heart feels very full right now.

I spent most of yesterday dealing with food. Fresh out of bed I made butter, followed by yogurt, then a dozen crescent rolls and a loaf of toast bread. I worried over the creme brulee but it turned out perfectly. I even got in a couple loads of laundry and picked up the apartment.

I must have been a cook in another life (oh, wait, I was ;) ). I love food. I love making it and seeing how things combine and go through these phenomenal chemical changes and become these flavorful, aromatic creations. Then, THEN, oh, my favorite part. You get to set the table! Beautiful plates, shining silverware, clear cups, delicate napkins (usually not, but they are cloth in my house so I can pretend). It's the perfect setting to place your master piece.

I mean seriously, the whole table is decked out and perfectly equipped to fully appreciate what is wrapped up in those beautiful serving dishes. What other artist has such a receptive audience? Stomachs rumble, noses inhale, mouths water. The plate asks to be filled, the knife to cut, the spoon waits in anticipation for dessert. A painter must suffer, a musician, too, but a cook! A cook is surrounded by people waiting deliriously for dinner. What mother hasn't had to chase her children (and her husband) out of the kitchen just so she can finish preparing in peace?

It's so amazing that God has provided us something that we must have to function, created it in such a way that we can make it beautiful and appeal to every sense, created us in such a way that we tend to gather together when we partake of it, created the sense of satisfaction and contentment that comes after a good meal and made that feeling extend to everyone present. It's so amazing.

To top it off, today I get to go to a yarn shop.

I'm so excited. My friend Kate discovered it and claims it has the softest, squishiest yarn. From what I've seen of her work, I suspect she's right. I cannot wait. I have a million projects running around my head (geez, I'll never have enough time) just waiting for the perfect yarn and eager hands.

Plus, I have a lined dress waiting in my sewing room for me to make it. I am making it for Emily and Karl's wedding in March. I am just a guest, but I want to honor them in what little ways I can. It calls out every time I pass the door. "I'm here! Still here! Waiting to be what I am intended for! Come and make me!"

Oh, that we would be so willing.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Socks!

My sister-in-law has kindly allowed me to borrow her camera so I am able to post pictures of all the stuff I've been doing/working on.

The most recent:


Socks! This is my first pair of knitted socks and my second pair of socks period. I'm really pleased at how they're turning out and can't wait to block them!

I would love to post pictures of all the things I made for Christmas presents (two embroidered flour sack towels, a lovely lace scarf for my mother, a blanket for my brother, etc.) but, alas, I have given them away and cannot take any pictures.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

La Dee Da

I'm supposed to be writing right now.

But I am, you say? What is this blog entry if not writing?

Well, this isn't what I'm supposed to be writing. Two to three is technically my allotted 'story time'. To see what my 'story' may be, check out that link under 'me in other places' up there in the top right corner. I'm currently working on the fourth chapter of 'For Emily', which is a young adult fantasy novel/novella about a girl whose dreams affect an alternate reality. Sounds complicated and official, right? Ha.

WRITER'S BLOCK...........FGHGHOGHIGHSLSJ;DIJEGWBHGWWBGNLGVG.

Hm, I wonder if it's actually 'writers' block'. A sort of collective possession.

Anyway.

I've been trying to get some impartial/anonymous feed back about the first three completed chapters, but feedback is slow in coming. I'm pretty sure the plot moves too slowly, I may have a lot of unnecessary detail about secondary characters (although my last self edit hopefully removed most of that), and I'm not sure one of the main character's character is consistent between chapters. Maybe I just need to keep writing and trust that it'll even itself out instead of trying to fix everything immediately.

Writing is hard.

I should have taken those story writing classes in college like I wanted to.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Getting Better

It's been a rough six years for various reasons and I was beginning to wonder if I would ever go back to the care-free, happy me that used to be. (Hm. That rhymes.) But I've realized over the last few weeks (or maybe even just week) that I must be getting better.

I caught myself singing the other day. Not just a song on the radio or a hymn we happened to sing at church the week before, but sing-song singing. You know, where you narrate what you're doing or what you're seeing or wishing or thinking or whatever in a song. That was when I knew I was really getting better. I used to do that all the time, mostly in the bathroom when I was getting ready for the day. I first noticed it was over Christmas when I was super tired at my in-law's house. I started singing out my answers to Dustin's questions. I think someone commented on it, probably Noelle, my sister-in-law, and I told her that I have to sing when I'm super tired because otherwise I'll get grumpy and mean. Then I realized that I hadn't sung outside of car rides and church for a long, long time.

Rediscovering yourself is weird. It's not like reinventing yourself where you become something new, it's when you start to do things that you haven't done in a really long time and to realize that it was a central part of who you were but you forgot.

So, while I'm not care-free (I did grow up and become and adult after all) I am no longer care-full. I no longer feel like a free-spirit locked up in a cage.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Home Alone.

I am not internally motivated. This is a new but blatant discovery.

The boy is traveling for work and I am home alone. At first I thought I could use this time and totally blow off my 'work' schedule and focus on knitting or story writing for three days. I was kind of excited and reminissed about all those nights in high school when I would draw till the wee hours of the morning in my closet (it was a walk-in with a light inside and usually kept me from getting caught).

I don't want to do anything, and I mean anything. The kitchen is a disaster, I didn't eat super (it seems to much effort with no one else to feed so I snacked instead). I knitted, pulled it out, knitted again, put it down to work on in the morning when I'm functioning. I drew some, doodled some, sat and stared at the wall some. I'm in bed but settling in enough to actually fall asleep doesn't sound appealing, mostly because it means I'll wake up to an empty bed, but staying awake is taking too much effort.

I'm not unhappy, just off.

We'll see what the morning brings.