Great and strange ideas transcending experience often have less effect upon men and women than smaller, more tangible considerations.
— H. G. Wells, The Invisible Man
Taking a break here from listening to the lectures about Hawthorne and Poe. Keeping up with the schoolwork is a challenge. As per usual, I was nearly sure I could neither complete the reading nor write anything this week. Having Louise take the class with me makes it even possible. We very often find we are in the same state of mind about the reading and our inability to find anything interesting or meaningful to say. Yet our kvetching or discussing, as you will, usually leads us to a semblance of a topic and so we write.
This week I really wanted to write about how Wells' The Invisible Man was a science fiction comedy in the rural antic British tradition. But seeing as how 3 or 4 out of every 5 essays I must critique has been written by a non-native English speaker, I think there is a fair chance that my readers would not have sufficient fluency in British genre novels like Barbara Pym or E.F. Benson.
A fever of depression visited me this weekend. And it was very bad. I haven't read any descriptions of this kind of cyclical depression, but I have, fortunately, learned to read it and manage it in myself relatively well. Which in no way obviates or lessens the pain. For me, a biochemical reaction is set in motion, very much like a fever which will run its course. While it burns and rages, I am misery itself and little able to shake it off or mitigate the effects. One thing I can and do often do is sleep sleep and sleep. That generally offers relief and some incremental perspective.
And so today I am back to a relatively even keel. This does not mean the realities that precipated my panic do not still obtain, only that I can bear them with more positive action in mind.
Am I writing weirdly? I've been reading H.G. Wells, Edgar Allan Poe, and Nathaniel Hawthorne. Perhaps they have influenced me.
Emmylou's collar was found in the attic. She is back to being belled. Cooder continues her eternal search for Greenies. It does make me sad to see how blind she becomes. But she gets around just fine.
Albert and I had a nice walk. The snow is almost all melted and there's a good chance we have seen the end of it for this season. Now, for the green to come shooting out.
And for those of you keeping score, I am working on my third scarf of the year. The cashmere is already worn and Melinda's needs only a bit more fringe and a blocking to be completed. I will see if it is possible to get photographs.