Thursday, March 21, 2013


In life, finding a voice is speaking and living the truth. Each of you is an original. Each of you has a distinctive voice. When you find it, your story will be told. You will be heard.

That's a nice sentiment, isn't it. On some levels, it is probably even true. But I am not so sure about the conclusion. 

The next day. Again.

Kind of blue. And not in a good way. But then again, again, again, I am tired and should not peer too closely at my current mood. 

And hey, I finished my lit class reading for next week today. Perhaps reading Bradbury's The Martian Chronicles has added to my tristesse. Or maybe it was the two episodes of House of Cards where all the characters are despicable.

We're reading Virginia Woolf's Night and Day for the Kermit Place Readers and our March meeting is on Tuesday. I was kind of the person who pushed for it, not knowing that it was 500 pages long. And I'm only at about page 60. I've grown accustomed these last few weeks to just reading as fast as I can to make it through whatever sci fi book that was assigned. Woolf is certainly worth slowing down for ...

"She had the reputation which nothing in her manner contradicted, of being the most practical of people. Ordering meals, directing servants, paying bills, and so contriving that every clock ticked more or less accurately in time, and a number of vases were always full of fresh flowers was supposed to be a natural endowment of hers, and, indeed, Mrs. Hilbery often observed that it was poetry the wrong side out. From a very early age, too, she had to exert herself in another capacity; she had to counsel and help and generally sustain her mother. Mrs. Hilbery would have been perfectly well able to sustain herself if the world had been what the world is not. She was beautifully adapted for life on another planet. But the natural genius she had for conducting affairs there was on no real use to her here."

And, as I am wont to say, damn straight.

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