a vestige of thought...

I'm not posting here anymore. We will consider this blog a vestige of my later teenage years and move on. Thank you, musicalily.blogspot.com, for stealing me from Xanga, for sticking with me during the wee hours of the morning during Blogathon 2006, for hosting my online love affair with Pride and Prejudice, for taking me through the alphabet as I started college, and for sticking with me as I clung to my last attempts at blog consistency. You have been a faithful friend and companion. I now lay you to rest.

*moment of silence*

But never fear! My blogging days are not over. Soon I will begin a new chapter in my blogging life. One that includes a wedding, moving to Iowa, and then following my future doctor future husband around the country for his rotations and residency. It's going to be an adventure. You won't want to miss this!

It has been over a year since I last posted--and I suspect I have lost any readership I had--but I've decided it's time to come back. Since my last post I have graduated from Asbury University and am now working there as an admissions counselor. I am living in a rented house with two of my dear friends and loving loving it. This transition in life means (among others) two things: 1) I now have a kitchen where I can cook my own food and 2) I have the opportunity to travel and eat things that lots of other people cook. As much as I enjoyed Asbury's cafeteria, I am loving the opportunity to learn about a different side of food. That's what I plan to write about. My goal is twofold: 1) to cook something "exciting" at least once a week while I'm home and 2) to not eat at any chain restaurants when I'm on the road. Assisting me in my latter goal is Urbanspoon, an iPhone app that will recommend restaurants depending on your location. Goodbye McDonald's, hello local hidden restaurant treasures!

Labels: fast food, food, Urbanspoon

I am realizing more and more the power of story. You'd think I would get it by now. I'm a communications major, for goodness sake. I took a whole class on the power and influence of Hollywood storytelling. And I go to Asbury, where the power of storytelling is emphasized--among other ways--by the annual Highbridge Film Festival. But I guess some things don't really get crammed into my brain until I see them played out in real (or fictional) life.

I have seen the power of stories recently in three places:

1) At Church--I had a discussion recently about Jon Weece, the pastor of Southland Christian Church. My friend and I were pondering what makes his preaching so captivating. And suddenly it was obvious: he tells stories. He tells stories and sprinkles them with scripture. The stories are not always deep (though they can be), but they are always memorable. I guess that's why Jesus told stories. (At this point the communications major in me says, 'Duh'.)

2) In Books--Again, duh, right? But there are definitely books that don't tell stories. I'm currently reading two books. One is a teen novel by Melody Carlson (which I started just now and will probably finish before dinner) and the other is Les Miserables (which I started three years ago and hope to finish one day before I die). Very different, for sure, but both take examples of pain that we most often hear about in statistical form and put them in story form. We as readers remember the story, which will hopefully impact us the next time we meet a statistic.

3) On Blogs--I'm sort of a closet adoption blog junkie. It's no secret that I hope to adopt one day, and I enjoy reading about the process and other people's experiences. I have read a few families' adoption journeys from beginning to end. Some blogs I only read an entry or two from. The difference? Some write the story of their family; others write the technical process of adoption. This is a generalizable principle. Remember Marley and Me? Okay, it wasn't a blog, but the author had the most success in his column when he was writing stories about his dog, and not when giving his opinion on zoning laws (or whatever).

Now, I realize that my posting in this way is somewhat ironic. I am filling my blog with non-story. It's not that non-story is always bad, just that often story is better. So to close, I leave you with a story:

Christy finishes her junior year of college, travels home, and spends the subsequent week in a large recliner in her living room reading lots and lots of books. She realizes that stories are cool and that she likes to write them as well as read them. So she sits down at her computer to write one. However, Google Reader quickly distracts her and she spends an hour or so reading blog posts and writing one of her own. Meanwhile, Christy realizes that the table where she is sitting in the midst of her mad typing frenzy is completely covered in delicious-looking frosted cupcakes. The smell of chocolate frosting wafts over here as she types. Her stomach growls. She realizes that it is 1:45 and she has not eaten lunch yet. She also realizes that these cupcakes are not for her, and she cannot eat any because there are only 48 (and not the requested 50) to begin with. So she decides to finish typing and explore the part of the kitchen that contains yummy foods that are not off limits.

The end.

Alright, it's not going to win me any prizes. Maybe next time.

... seeing as it's been nearly a year since I've done so.

Why is it that the longer one waits between posts, the harder it is to come up with something to say? I have started to post several times over the past couple of months, but never finished anything. So--even though I will probably say nothing--I have committed to posting this one, regardless of how it turns out.

I think I shall leave you with this: Pride and Prejudice, my way

It's hard to believe it has been nearly three years since I did this. I just revisited it for the first time in many, many moons and had a good, heart-lightening laugh. I thought you might enjoy the same. Hopefully you will a laugh as well and not just the thought that I must be slightly addled.

All of a sudden I discover that I have been home an entire month! Amazing. I still feel like my summer is only beginning, yet a third of it is gone.

I've settled into a pretty good routine. I work at Chick-Fil-A for the first part of the day, usually 7 or so hours before 4:00. At 4:00, on most days, I leave work and drive to Batavia where I babysit for 3 or so hours for a tiny, five-week-old baby named Valerie. She is adorable, and my time at her house is probably what I look forward to most. Thursdays I am off from Chick-Fil-A, so I babysit longer. I come home in the evenings, usually around 8:45, and read or chat with my family before going to bed. I have a few other things going on from time to time, including a weekly college group at church, and a weekly girls' Bible study.

I miss my friends, particularly my roommate, tremendously, but I've found myself more content than expected in my time at home. My shifts at Chick-Fil-A, which once completely drained me, now seem to go by in the blink of an eye and only my slightly sore feet remind me that I had been there anywhere from 6 to 10 hours. Babysitting is actually incredibly relaxing, even when Valerie is grumpy. I spend a lot of time reading or writing or praying while the baby is sleeping or while I'm holding her. I always feel refreshed emotionally and spiritually when I get home, even if I'm physically tired.

I'm even managing to make good progress on my summer reading list. At the moment, I'm in the middle of three books: I read Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo (which I began three years ago and am determined to finish before the summer is out; I've got only 500 pages left) when I'm at home, Till We Have Faces, by C.S. Lewis while I'm babysitting (because Les Mis is a bit difficult to hold open with one hand while carrying a baby in the other), and a chapter or two of my big Chronicles of Narnia book before bed.

That pretty much sums up my life for the past month (and probably for the next two months as well). If anything exciting happens, I'll let you know.

Since coming home yesterday nearly all of my time has been taken up attempting to clean up the disaster site that is my room and unpack my infinite boxes of dorm room stuff. I have ended up going through piles of paper that I have not touched in years. It takes me longer than it probably needs to to get through everything, because I end up reading everything that I have stashed in these piles.

This past semester I took the class Narratives and Ideologies of Hollywood, in which our final project was to write a 15-25 page short story with a moral point. This was time consuming, although not too horribly difficult. While cleaning my room, I discovered that I have, in fact, been writing moral tales for quite a while. The following was a Superstory (story including all of that week's vocabulary words) I wrote in 7th grade at age 13.

"Sara!" yelled Kathryn for the thousandth time that day. Come get your stuff out of my room!"

"Yes your majesty," said Sarah, coming into her older sister's room to pick up her books. "I will grovel at your feet O reputable one. I will forever revere and honor you." She mockingly bowed before Kathryn.

"Oh, you're hilarious," said Kathryn sarcastically. "Now get your stuff and get yourself out of here." At that moment the door slammed shut.

"Kathryn," Sara said quietly.

"What?" snapped Kathryn, agitated.

"The door won't open."

"So turn the handle." She got up and reached for the doorknob, but the whole door ignited suddenly, causing both girls to jump back.

"I didn't do it!" Sara blurted out. She had expected a smart aleck remark from Kathryn, but one look at her sister's countenance told her that she was too terrified to say anything. Sara unexpectedly felt brave for a small second, but whatever courage she had diminished quickly when she saw what was on the other side of the fire. The small, stodgy looking woman seemed to come strait from some ancient Greek saga. But it was what was behind the stuffy character that scared Sara. There, standing in chronological order, was a gruesome creature for every argument that Sara and Kathryn had ever had. Some were massive things, tugging on their chains with fangs dripping with the venom of hate. These represented huge fights between the sisters. They had grown with the grudges the girls had fostered for days at a time. Others were small and bun-like. These had been born or disagreements started by fluctuating emotions in difficult times. All were seething with anger and clearly wanted nothing more than to destroy kathryn and Sara. The girls looked at each other, somehow knowing that the creatures had been their own handicrafts. They were astonished at the magnitude of some of their arguments. Sara edged toward Kathryn and whispered in her ear.

"What can we do to pall their hatred so we can get out of here?" Kathryn thought for a moment.

"That woman seems to be their maternal figure," she said. "Maybe she can somehow enchant them so we can leave." It was as if the woman knew what they said, but she was too far away to hear their whispering. She began to hum, low and soft. The monsters began to close their eyes sleepily, and the quiet songs made Sara and Kathryn groggy too. When it seemed that there was no energy left in either of them, they fell in a crumpled heap on the ground.

Sara woke up again on the floor in Kathryn's room. Next to her, Kathryn was stirring. When she sat up their eyes met. Neither said a word, but both knew that it would be a long time before either started an argument again.

Major bonus points go to anyone who can figure out which of the words in the story were from my vocabulary list.

Once upon a time I watched the 5 hour A&E version of Pride and Prejudice and subsequently the new theatrical version. After that I wrote out a comparison of the two. In the past week I have once again watched both versions and felt the desire to compare them. I started to write and then realized that I had already done that. The following is my original comparison, posted here two years ago. Perhaps I am lame for posting my own writing twice, but I'm going to do it anyway.

After watching the A&E version of Pride and Prejudice at the Gates's and then watching the new version on my own this weekend, I have once again started railing on about the differences between the two and how I like this or that in one version better than the other. I believe, however, that my family has never particularly cared to hear my in-depth opinion on the matter and tired of my discourse rather quickly. Therefore, since I enjoy writing better than speaking anyway, I have written out the following (strictly for my own benefit). That way, anyone who wishes can read it and those who aren't interested can skip over it.

Obviously, being myself, I much prefer the book to any movie adaptation*. Jane Austen's skill at written observation and witty conversation remain unmatched to this day. Neither of the film versions can be best appreciated without first reading the book. My favorite attributes of each movie come as a result of their best capturing visually what Austen described in text. After each character/element listed I have indicated which version (old or new) I thought Austen's writing best portrayed.

Characters:

Mr. Bennet- Old. The new Mr. Bennet loses mostly by fault of the movie's writers (though slightly by his manner of acting as well). Much of his witty dialogue from the book, and much of his love of laughing at the absurdity of the world has been omitted (or changed), resulting in a loss of depth for his character.

Mrs. Bennet- Old. I have heard people say that they prefer the new Mrs. Bennet because she is not so utterly ridiculous as the old one. I like the old one for just this reason. In the book Mrs. Bennet is a very laughable, ridiculous, somewhat obnoxious woman. The first Mrs. Bennet portrayed this excellently.

Jane Bennet- New. Jane's predominant characteristics in the book are beauty and simplistic goodness. She is a fairly one-dimensional character in that respect. Both Janes have all the goodness, but the second has much more of the beauty. She is indeed prettier than Kiera Knightly's Elizabeth and is much more believable as the reputed beauty of the country.

Elizabeth Bennet- Tie. Though Jennifer Ehle's Elizabeth receives the benefit of more Austen dialogue, Kiera Knightly portrays Elizabeth's spirit very well and I believe would have performed just as well in Miss Ehle's earlier roll.

Mary Bennet- Old. I love to laugh at the first Mary's ugliness and ridiculousness, t hough the new Mary is a bit more true to life. Still, in spite of the new Mary's realistic portrayal, the old one seems more like Jane Austen's Mary, a silly girl through and through.

Kitty Bennet- Undecided. Honestly, I can't remember enough about either Kitty to make a choice. She has such a minor roll that it does not much seem to matter who played her, except perhaps for her coughing ability (in which I believe both actresses to be equal).

Lydia Bennet- New. This one was close. Austen portrays Lydia as a thoughtless and selfish fifteen-year-old: both Lydias played this well, but I find the old Lydia to be more annoying than the one in the book and to look older than fifteen.

Mr. Bingly- New. Another tough choice. Both actors perform very well as Jane's slightly awkward and socially inept lover, but the new Bingly wins probably because he looks more as I imagined him when reading the book.

Miss Bingly- New. Austen describes Miss Bingly as proud, stuffy, and superior, but not as particularly foolish or ridiculous. I find the first Miss Bingly to be a bit too silly (I think it's something with her nose and all the feathers on her head). The new Miss Bingly is sharp-minded while still being the condescending jerk Austen wrote her as.

Mr. Darcy- Old. No competition here. While Matthew MacFadyen has his moments, there is no beating Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy. Perhaps it was supposed to come across as pride and indifference, but I often felt MacFadyen's lines came across rushed and unconvincing. He improves as the movie goes on, but he never quite reaches Colin Firth's Mr. Darcy status. The writers also cost him points when they completely rearranged his first proposal to Elizabeth and much of his second. I knew that all hope was lost when "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you" was replaced (in a later scene) with "You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love... I love... I love you." Not bad in general, but bad for Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Wickham- New. Though the new Mr. Wickham was given an unfortunately small amount of screen time, I found him much more convincing as a seemingly dashing and gentlemanly slimeball. The old Mr. Wickham was creepy the entire time. The new Mr. Wickham may have gotten me to trust him, if I had not already read the book and known his true character.

Georgiana Darcy- Tie. Both are very cute, sweet girls whom Mr. Darcy is an excellent brother to. The point of her character is to reveal goodness in her brother and the actresses in both movies accomplish this equally well.

Mr. Collins- Old. The first Mr. Collins was greasy, proud, awkward, and overwhelmingly obsequious. The second is as well, but to a much smaller degree. The first is much less likable, but much more entertaining (and much more like I imagined him in the book.)

Charlotte Lucas- Old. I'm not sure I can exactly pinpoint why I liked the first Charlotte best. Again I suspect the writers of the second are at fault. Much of what is stated in the book is omitted and much of what was insinuated is stated plainly. I don't like that.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh- Old. This I think is mostly personal taste. When I look at Lady Catherine in the new movie I think, "Hey look, it's Judy Dench." When I see her in the old movie I think, "Hey look, it's Lady Cathering de Bourgh." Plus, they consistently spell "de Bourgh" wrong in the subtitles of the new version.

Miss de Bourgh- Old. Miss de Bourgh does not speak in either movie, so my judgement is solely on appearance. The first Miss de Bourgh appears much more sickly and completely opposite everything Lady Catherine claims she "would have been if only..."

Colonel Fitzwilliam- Old. I know the book says that he was not handsome, but as the men in both movies are equally gentlemanly (though the first Colonel has more screen time to prove it), I have to choose the first since he is better looking. The second Colonel just looks... silly.

Overall, the A&E version is much better than the recent theatrical release. A lot of this has to do with the fact that five hours is a much more beneficial amount of time to tell the story than 2 hours. But there were a couple of things in particular that bothered me about the new version. The first is the reassigning and omitting of important lines. For example "What are men to rocks and mountains?" is given first to Mary and the to Mr. Gardiner, though it was originally said by Lizzie. The words mean vastly different things coming from such different characters and I don't see why they needed to be reassigned. The second, much related folly is that much of Austen's dialogue was rewritten to (I suppose) be more understandable to a 21st century audience. I don't see why "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you" needed to be changed to "I love you. Most ardently." Darcy's entire manner if speech is much changed in a way I do not like at all. Austen wrote intelligently and much of her meaning was hinted at for the reader to pick up on his own. For example, in the book and first version of the movie we need not be told outright that Charlotte married Mr. Collins for matters of financial security in the future.

But of course, both movies are ultimately lacking, for movies never are as pleasing as their book origins. Neither adaptation contains all my favorite lines. Both, for example, are missing this one:

"I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice. I am even happier than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh."


*Adaptations not to be bothered with:
The 1940's version (I think) from which the only thing I recall is that Lady Catherine was in on a plot to secure Darcy and engagement with Elizabeth.

Bride and Prejudice, a musical adaptation taking place in present day India (if I remember correctly) that is full of exceptional cheesiness, bad dancing, and mysterious gospel choirs appearing on beaches. As dumb as it was, laughing at it with Laura was nearly worth the money spent renting it.

I do not write poetry often, but occasionally I feel inspired and decide to try my hand at it. Most often this happens when I should be paying attention to something else, but I pull out a piece of paper and scribble down what comes to mind. I just rediscovered the following poem while going through my papers from my classes of this past semester. I wrote it while in Western Classics. I can't remember exactly what we were reading and discussing at the time, but I think it may have been Rasselas by Samuel Johnson.

A spark.
One.
One spark against the blanket night.
One spark on trampled grass.
One spark.

It glows, this spark,
Yet I tarry.
Do I need fire?
Or am I content
This cool spring eve
With my own jacket?

A fire.
A fire warms.
It blazes and rages.
It lights a view now hidden in dark.
It consumes and must be fed,
This fire.

My coat, though,
Is soft.
It holds out cold.
It holds me well.
Its arms on mine,
This coat.

Where to from here?
The spark flickers.
It dims.
Do I fan it?
Or let it burn out?
Perhaps a third:
Let us see whether the wind blows.

Other poems that I write from time to time can be found at Christinae Carmina (that is, 'The Poems of Christina' in Latin, so as to sound more erudite or something).

It's springtime and along with the squirrels and robins, all the Asbury couples are coming out of hiding. That seems to be everyone's favorite thing to joke about these days. From where I am sitting in the library, I can see three or four couples out on the vibrantly green semi-circle. It is rather fun to see campus come alive again. In addition to the couples, I can see several people out jogging, some girls in front of G-C studying, and father with a his toddler son walking around. Then there's me, sitting in the library, wishing I wasn't quite so distractible so that I could work outside and actually get something done.

For one of my classes I have to write a 15-25 page fictional story with a moral lesson of sorts. (In addition to the story itself I have to write a 3-page paper on the significance of the symbolism I use.) I'm writing about fairies who live in trees. Maybe that's silly, cliche, and rather girly of me, but I like being able to make up my own world completely and not have to worry so much about getting my facts from this world mixed up. If I don't know how the government in the fairy world works, I can just make it up. Since I am so completely distractible, especially when I'm trying to write something, it helps me to have some sort of instrumental music in the background. This afternoon I bought some George Winston piano music to listen to specifically when I'm working on my story to get me in the right mood. It fits the story amazingly well.

In a slightly more disturbing bit of news, there have been a rash of thefts around campus recently, particularly in the girls' dorms. A friend of mind had $50 stolen right out of her wallet. Needless to say, we have all been much more careful about locking out doors when no one is there. It's easy to become lax about that when things happen so infrequently as they do here. Although I definitely hope this gets resolved soon, I am continually reminded how grateful I am that cash theft has been the biggest crime we've dealt with since I've been on campus.

Somehow I ended up on my hall's intramural softball team this semester. I've yet to play a game because they keep getting cancelled or scheduled for times that I can't play. Still, if I do ever get to play, it's going to be interesting. I'm not sure I have ever played a remotely organized game of softball. Ever. In any case, go Bad Bananas!

This morning we woke up at the ungodly (for spring break) hour of 7:30 in the morning, dressed in many layers, and loaded up Courtney's car for the hour and a half drive to Mystic, CT (most famous as a fishing port from a long time ago and/or the setting of the movie Mystic Pizza). Upon arriving, we spent most of the day at the Mystic Seaport museum (mostly closed for the winter, but with enough stuff open to be fun). The museum had a bunch of ships and houses and such that were intended to recreate a 19th century seaport village. (See photos below.) For lunch we attempted to eat at the little cafe at the seaport but were told that the clam chowder was still frozen and that if we wanted some she could put it in the microwave. Uh-huh. Instead we walked 10 minutes to downtown Mystic and ate at a wonderful restaurant which, I believe, was called The Riverfront (although I'm pretty sure that big body of water we saw was not a river...)


Welcome to Mystic Seaport


This is Heather being seaweed caught in the anchor...


I think I was born to be a sailor


Courtney overboard!


There are no words...


A whaling ship


Us in the bowels of the whaling ship.


"Is this where they put all the bad kids?"