Bedtime for Sleepy Lotus
Originally uploaded by littlemiao
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Baby Lotus is never too sleepy for a bedtime story... zzzzz...
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Baby Lotus is never too sleepy for a bedtime story... zzzzz...
Gareth was a black cat with orange eyes. Sometimes, when he hunched his shoulders and put down his ears, he looked like an owl. When he stretched, he looked like a trickle of oil or a pair of black silk pajamas. When he sat on a window ledge, his eyes half-shut and his tail curled around him, he looked like a secret.It contains undeniable wisdom, such as, "A cat can belong to you, but you can't own him". Or, "any bed is soft to a cat" - an axiom even the pampered Prince Tantra proves almost daily. "You can say some of the loveliest things in the world - without words." And finally, something to remember when you feel overwhelmed by everything that needs to get done: "The only thing to worry about is what's happening right now. As we tell the kittens, you can only wash one paw at a time."
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I received a book in the mail today. An autographed book of my favorite comics in the whole wide world, for my Miao Brothers. They'll get to read it (and pose for pictures with it) when I go home in April.
I took a long walk in the snow this morning. I love the springtime snow showers when the temperature isn't bitterly freezing and the birds are chirping about. It makes driving inconvenient, I'll admit. I walked to the closer grocery store (at times I felt I should have brought snowshoes along) to get a few things I wanted, since I'm running low on supplies. Well, mainly I went for frozen strawberries, green tea, and whole wheat bread.
I'm still reading Washington Square. I didn't make much progress yesterday. If I get enough studying done today, I'll reward myself with a nice reading time this evening. It's almost noon, and because of my walk this morning (and maybe a little voxing), I haven't opened my textbooks yet.
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Lately, I haven't had nearly as much time to read as I would like. I'm still not done with The Dark Is Rising. The book sits on the shelf right in my line of vision when I'm at my desk - a constant reminder of the suspenseful, fast-paced story that I'm inching through page by interrupted page. I've been studying all day - I didn't even go outside for a walk today, even though the sky is beautiful and blue. I gave myself that luxury yesterday. I don't like being cooped up in my little basement. I feel like a prisoner glancing longingly at the little patch of blue. I even have a crick on my neck from glancing up too much.
Enough complaining.
In The Dark Is Rising, the main character, Will Stanton is given a book of ancient knowledge to read and absorb. Through reading that book, he experiences the entire universe, from the farthest stars to the deepest crevices under the ocean. It is "the Gift of Gramarye: a long lifetime of discovery and wisdom, given to him in a moment of suspended time." As an "Old One", Will exists in a different time-scale. He can stretch time out as he wishes, "to make it go fast, or slow..."* As petty as it sounds, I'm envious. Very very envious.
* Quotations from pages 123 and 109, respectively, of the 1973 Macmillian edition.
... it stands for something, somehow. And that's why Gumerry wants to find it as well. It's like two armies fighting in history. You're never quite sure what they're actually fighting about, but only that one wants to beat the other. (p. 158, Macmillan 1989)The children were satisfied despite the lack of information. A grail quest is inherently exciting, after all, and since the children instinctively see the line between Light and Dark, they know they are on the "good" side. Perhaps it was the simplicity of the quest, or the children's superficial eagerness, that discouraged me from continuing with the series when I was younger. Then and now, I found it a likable story, but not deeply compelling.
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I exiled myself from Vox for the weekend in order to be more productive, but I don't suppose this is cheating, since I didn't say "no Blogger". I finished reading Over Sea, Under Stone by Susan Cooper a few days ago, but I still haven't posted about it. It was enjoyable to re-read it - I actually enjoyed it more this time than the first time I read it. Now I'm reading The Picture of Dorian Gray and The Dark Is Rising - alternately, depending on my mood. (When I'm not studying, that it.)
Anyway... We lose an hour of catnaps tonight because of the silliness that is Daylight Savings Time, which makes me very very sad.
And some people might think that a Redmond B.A., whom editors were beginning to honour, was 'wasted' as the wife of a struggling country doctor in the rural community of Four Winds. (p.88 Bantam Classic Edition, 1987)But is my attitude fair to Anne? Is my idea of (academic or literary) success the only road to a life well lived? Certainly not. I struggled to silence my prejudices and allow Anne's contentment to speak for itself. While puzzling over why Lucy Maud Montgomery did not make her Anne a successful, married writer (like herself), it crossed my mind that Montgomery might have wanted to give Anne something more, something that she herself did not have, rather than make Anne a mere clone. Montgomery's life had its share of stresses - a depressed husband, a dead child, her own depression and illness, difficulties with publishers... etc.* Reading Anne's House of Dreams has helped me to appreciate how immature my own dreams and measures of success still are.
A gorgeous beastie, with a face as round as a full moon, vivid green eyes, and immense, white, double paws. (p.58)And the breathtaking views of Prince Edward Island... Possibly my favorite passage, capturing the eye-blinding clarity of winter so well:
The last day of the old year was one of those bright, cold dazzling winter days, which bombard us with their brilliancy, and command our admiration but never our love. The sky was sharp and blue; the snow diamonds sparkled insistently; the stark trees were bare and shameless, with a kind of brazen beauty; the hills shot assaulting lances of crystal. (p.97)