bojojoti: (Magic Camera)
It was 76° and sunny Saturday.  Snow was on the ground Sunday.  Tonight the low is supposed to get down to 15°.  The wheat crop is in danger.  The word is that it may be as poor a crop as 2007.  Thank God, I'm not a farmer.  Especially in Kansas, where, if the floods don't drown it, the droughts will shrivel it up, the hail will beat it to death, the sun will bake it, the cold will freeze it to extinction, or the winds will blow it away.

In happier news, I attended a writing class taught by Nancy Pickard, a highly-regarded mystery writer.  She was very pleasant, interesting, and informative.  Regrettably, I hadn't read any of her books, as my tastes in mysteries tend to the gentle medieval ones (Brother Cadfael, I love thee) or the proper Victorian ones (my dear Sherlock Holmes).  I may have to rectify that.

Speaking of writing, I have a 25-page paper due for class in about a week.  Have I started?  No.  I have no ideas.  I can write copious amounts of words once I have an idea that inspires me.  Without inspiration, I have no words.  Inspire me, please.  What is faith?
bojojoti: (Magic Camera)
The early teen years are perfect for an introduction to Poe:  it's one tortured soul reaching out to another through the miasma of darkness and gloom.  The junior high librarian and I became good friends, and she gifted me with a slim volume of Poe's writing.  We've been friends since:  the librarian, Poe, and I.

You can imagine my pleasure at discovering that my Intro to Literature class would start with a selection of Poe's writings:  The Tell-Tale Heart, The Masque of the Red Death, and The Fall of the House of Usher.  I enjoyed rereading the selections, and I eagerly anticipated the class discussions.  Is there anything better than talking about foreshadowing, allegory, and intent?

My classmates were considerably less enthusiastic, but I was undaunted.  I euphorically answered the professor's questions of motive and symbolism.  When he asked what the class thought about Poe, I waxed poetic about his use of language.

Then Dr. M glanced my way and said, "May I have a reaction from some of you we haven't heard from yet?"

A gawky guy mumbled, "He was a weirdo."

(I must learn to limit myself to three comments during class!  It's hard when no one else says anything.  But, then again, maybe someone will say something if I shut up.  Whew!  We are done with Poe, so I should be able to suppress myself.)


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June 2013

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