Library Thursday Blog Hop is hosted by Lazy Girl Reads (click link to find out more about it.)
My haul from my local public library:
Lost by Gregory Maguire
The Last Dickens by Matthew Pearl
The Poe Shadow by Matthew Pearl
Dead in the Family by Charlaine Harris
and Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness
Random thoughts, stories, poems, book reviews, movie reviews, photos, and whatever else happens to be on my mind at the time. Enjoy!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Third Sentence Thursday
Third Sentence Thursday is a weekly meme hosted by Sniffly Kitty's Mostly Books you cab find that here.
How to:
1) Take the book you are reading now and post the third sentence
2) Review this sentence anyway you want (funny and silly reviews encouraged)
3) Post a link to your sentence here (in the comments) or if you don't have a blog, just post it in the comments!
From Le Morte D'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory (skipping all of the introductions)
"And so by means King Uther sent for his Duke, charging him to bring his wife with him, for she was called a fair lady, and a passing wise, and her name was called Igraine."
Well, this sentence gives you a good idea of the book, the language follows through the rest of the book like this. If I read this sentence before picking up the book or knowing what the story was about, I would probably neverwant to read it but I love the story of King Arthur so I'd probably even read it in French with a French English dictionary. Once you get into the book, the story sweeps you away and you forget about the language and sentence structure; I promise.
How to:
1) Take the book you are reading now and post the third sentence
2) Review this sentence anyway you want (funny and silly reviews encouraged)
3) Post a link to your sentence here (in the comments) or if you don't have a blog, just post it in the comments!
From Le Morte D'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory (skipping all of the introductions)
"And so by means King Uther sent for his Duke, charging him to bring his wife with him, for she was called a fair lady, and a passing wise, and her name was called Igraine."
Well, this sentence gives you a good idea of the book, the language follows through the rest of the book like this. If I read this sentence before picking up the book or knowing what the story was about, I would probably neverwant to read it but I love the story of King Arthur so I'd probably even read it in French with a French English dictionary. Once you get into the book, the story sweeps you away and you forget about the language and sentence structure; I promise.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Growing Up
A few years ago I realized that I was losing my imagination and that I was becoming dangerously close to losing my ability to believe in anything. I find that very sad, it feels like losing some fundamental part of myself. I guess the old adage is true: if you don't use it you'll lose it. I mean I would still day dream like I did when I was a child, but instead of imagining myself in Neverland with Peter Pan I would now imagine how my date that night would turn out. I just was not very creative anymore. My painting as well as my writing suffered for the extreme lack of creativity so I decided that I had to do something to prevent myself from losing my imagination for good.
When I was younger and any sort of magic was... well magical for me. I loved imagining that inside all flowers lived little fairies and that the animals and plants could talk to people if they would only listen closely enough. I liked to imagine that one day I would wake up and I would be able to fly, or become invisible, or breathe underwater. I also had a very active imagination. I would make up worlds for all of my friends to play in. We would spend weeks pretending we were warriors who were saving the world form dragons or evil sorcerers. I lived for helping others believe in the possibility that there was something fabulous out there be it magic or whatever else. I loved the possibility that anything could happen or be real.
One thing that I noticed was that my inner critic stifled a lot of my more imaginative trains of thought because I was afraid that if I would ever write about something like an underwater world or fairies or dragons or whatever people would not take me seriously as a writer or an adult.So, stifling my inner critic was the first step in making myself more creative. I still feel like I lost a lot of my childishness, which now makes me sad because when I was younger I was so eager to become an adult. I wish I did not have to make myself grow up so fast, I could have taken my time and enjoyed the moment but I was always striving to be seen as more mature and more adult. I wish that growing up did not mean becoming cynical and logical. I enjoy having my head in the clouds and I am no longer ashamed to admit that. I just hope that one day I will be able to be as imaginative as I was as a child.
When I was younger and any sort of magic was... well magical for me. I loved imagining that inside all flowers lived little fairies and that the animals and plants could talk to people if they would only listen closely enough. I liked to imagine that one day I would wake up and I would be able to fly, or become invisible, or breathe underwater. I also had a very active imagination. I would make up worlds for all of my friends to play in. We would spend weeks pretending we were warriors who were saving the world form dragons or evil sorcerers. I lived for helping others believe in the possibility that there was something fabulous out there be it magic or whatever else. I loved the possibility that anything could happen or be real.
One thing that I noticed was that my inner critic stifled a lot of my more imaginative trains of thought because I was afraid that if I would ever write about something like an underwater world or fairies or dragons or whatever people would not take me seriously as a writer or an adult.So, stifling my inner critic was the first step in making myself more creative. I still feel like I lost a lot of my childishness, which now makes me sad because when I was younger I was so eager to become an adult. I wish I did not have to make myself grow up so fast, I could have taken my time and enjoyed the moment but I was always striving to be seen as more mature and more adult. I wish that growing up did not mean becoming cynical and logical. I enjoy having my head in the clouds and I am no longer ashamed to admit that. I just hope that one day I will be able to be as imaginative as I was as a child.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
The Great, The Good and the Bad giveaway
Great Giveaway from The Great, The Good and the Bad! Look into it, I dare ya! Plus it is a great blog. http://thegreatthegoodandthebad.blogspot.com/
Friday, July 22, 2011
TGIF at GReads
Not sure about Blogger etiquette, hope I am doing this right. I don't want to step on any toes. I just came across GReads and wanted to be a part of TGIF.
The question: Where do you keep your books at home? Are they organized?
My books used to be organized on bookshelves but I no longer have enough shelf space so my books have been building up on all available surfaces.
Bookshelf number 1, all of the books that I have read and want to keep.
On my bed...
Bedside stand....
End table by my favorite chair...
School books bookshelf...
... and I also have books inside a storage ottoman.
Yep, Definitely need to get some more bookshelves.
The question: Where do you keep your books at home? Are they organized?
My books used to be organized on bookshelves but I no longer have enough shelf space so my books have been building up on all available surfaces.
Bookshelf number 1, all of the books that I have read and want to keep.
On my bed...
Bedside stand....
End table by my favorite chair...
School books bookshelf...
... and I also have books inside a storage ottoman.
Yep, Definitely need to get some more bookshelves.
Reminiscing
Recently, I was going through my closet, and I found my grandfather's old Typewriter. It was like walking into the past. It still smelled like him and there was paper taped to it that had random thoughts that he had typed in testing the new ribbon. I could hear his voice in my head. I could see his gnarly knuckles and veined hands. I remembered snatches of conversations. He was always quiet and I have more memories of my grandmother who had a more dominant personality. The main feeling I had was regret: I regretted that I did not spend more time with him after he moved from another state to being right down the block. I remember he had such wonderful stories but that I was always antsy to get outside to play with my friends. I wish I had stayed and listened because I have a feeling that I missed a great fount of knowledge and life experiences that I could have used in my writing.
I guess the moral of this little story is to live in the moment more and to pay attention to those around me. I don't want to have to live with any more regrets.
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