how to Waste Time...

Dear Reader,

In today's "how to..." post, I will show you how to waste one of mankind's most precious commodity. Time.

If you, by any chance, know me personally, then you would also know that I rarely watch TV. However, in the past, I always use to make an exception for historical/period dramas, like North & South, Jane Eyre, Sense and Sensibility and Little Dorrit (Aside: these four are my favourite BBC adaptations/productions in descending order).  But  due to exams and uni work, I hadn't been keeping up to date on what's been on T.V. So when I read this blog post by one of my favourite authors, Kristen Cashore, I was sufficiently intrigued by Downton Abbey. It set in Yorkshire, England in the early 1900s, and is about both the nobility (the Earl of Grantham and his family) and servants (the butler - Mr. Carson, the housekeeper - Mrs. Hughes etc...) that live/work in Downton Abbey. 

As evidence of the vast amount of time I've been wasting recently, I went out the same day, rented a copy of Downton Abbey DVD and watched all seven episodes in one day (each episode being about an hour long - the equivalent of watching 3 incredibly long movies). I had told myself that I'll watch one episode each day, but I was so hooked that I ended up watching them all at once with  probably a small 5min break before episode 5 to run downstairs grab a packet of snack-a-jacks, nice biscuits and a cup of tea (can't forget the tea!). And then, after I'd finished watching, I spent the rest of the night thinking about each characters' flaws (especially Lady Mary, the Earl's oldest daughter, played by the beautiful Michelle Dockery) and what might happen in the next series, which of course meant that I lost quite a few hours of precious sleep. 

Who are my favourite characters from the series, I hear you ask? (I have a good imagination) Well, first and foremost it has to be Anna Smith (Joanne Froggatt), the head housemaid, for her share kindness and compassion, then Mrs. Isobel Crawley (Penelope Wilton) for her stubbornness and cheek when defying convention. After that comes the Earl himself (Hugh Bonneville) because he seems like such a nice guy and nice guys have a tendency to be under-appreciated. And then Lady Sybil Crawley (Jessica Brown-Findlay) - the Earl's youngest dauhgter, for obvious reasons (well only obvious if you've seen the the series, but if you haven't then you, dear reader, definitely should). 

And if you're still not interested, then this is the ITV promo. 

And now that I've proven that I can thoroughly waste time, I'm going to go and hang my head in shame - for about five minutes and then it's off to 5 hours of non-stop-work-on-my-dissertation.

Nida

poetry, Again!

Dear Reader,

In my last poetry post, I completely forgot to mention Lord Alfred Tennyson among my favourite poets. I admit I hadn't read much of his poetry back when I wrote the post a few months ago, but I recently acquired a copy of his selected poems and I find that my opinion of his poetry is now much improved ;-).

So far my favourite has to be The Lady of Shalott. It's a brilliantly flowing and breathtakingly beautiful poem, but it's also quite long. So I only recommend that you read if you're really interested. It's basically about this young lady who has spent her whole life trapped in a tower on the small island of Shalott, that lies in the middle of the river that leads to Camelot. As things go, she is cursed, the poor girl, and can only watch the world go by through a mirror. One day, in that mirror she sees Sir Lancelot riding towards Camelot and falls instantly in love with him. I suppose he's meant to be some ultra-handsome-dude that girls are always swooning over. So anyway, the young lady of Shalott decides to risk it all and venture forth to Camelot on her boat. However, by the time the boat reaches Camelot, they only find the poor girl's dead body in it. And the irony of it all is that, when Lancelot finally sees her, he thinks that she was quite beautiful. *Sigh*.

The Lady of Shalott by John Williams Waterhouse, 1888

But this poem really makes me think about how we should take action no matter what our circumstances. Rather than waiting for our knights-in-shining-armours to rescue us (who, by the way, may not even know we exist), and rather than just watching the world on our T.V. and computer screens, we should go out there and actually see it for ourselves.      

Anyway, this post without any real poetry. So here is my favourite excerpt from Merlin and Vivien from Idylls of the King by Tennyson:

'“In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours,
Faith and unfaith can ne’er be equal powers:
Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.

“It is the little rift within the lute,
That by and by will make the music mute,
And ever widening slowly silence all.

“The little rift within the lover’s lute
Or little pitted speck in garnered fruit,
That rotting inward slowly moulders all.

“It is not worth the keeping: let it go:
But shall it? answer, darling, answer, no.
And trust me not at all or all in all.”'

By the way, Idylls of the King is an novel-length-incredible-long poem made up of some-what-long poems that chroniclize the adventures of King Arthur and his friends.

And though I cannot possibly compare myself to master poet, such a Lord Alfred Tennyson (who, by the way, was the Poet Laureate for England from 1850 till 1892, when he died), I leave you now with a few more of my own poems:

Divine Loneliness
2010

Under a liquid-grey evening sky

When night is never more so nigh

                                                                 

From these closed eyes falls a watery streak

No one wants to know of another’s grief

Never more alone than when in a crowd.

Yet faith leaves me so little room for doubt

That this clustered solitude could ever be complete

When prostrating myself at His sublime Feat

Since human comfort always seems to fail

Only His noble words give me space to heal

This pain those people unknowingly inflict

Belief stitches every wound and every snick

And now tears bring on an overwhelming peace

Ever more near to my heart, is this ephemeral ease.  

Hi, (an e-mail) 

©2008

Hi,

Just writing to ask how you are doing?

Haven’t spoken to you in quite a while.

Just wondering if your life is still blooming,

And if, on your lips, there’s still that smile?

My life in truth is pretty much the same,

A mixture of family, study and poetry.

Constantly, things to be done remain,

Not even enough time for a single memory.

And yet, I feel there’s too much satiety,

Maybe because of the routinely pattern of day.

But don’t give me that look, I don’t need pity,

Sometimes I prefer to have things that way.

Do you remember that trip that was so serene,

Those mountains where we almost lost my brother?

But enough about me, how many years has it been

Since the last time we had seen each other?

We should meet up again sometime soon,

Maybe we’ll have a coffee and a good conversation.

But that’s only if I can make some time out of this gloom,

There’s nothing better than some anticipation!

So I’m eagerly waiting for your reply,

To me that is something you cannot deny.

But now it’s time for me to say Good-bye.

Nida

loose Ends and abstract Thoughts

Dear Reader,

It was recently bought to my attention that I hadn't commented on the status of the title of "the BIG ONE". Well, since I'm a very democratic person, *wink* I've taken into consideration the results of the poll (now ended), and decided to temporarily name the BIG ONE Life in Conversations. 'Temporarily' because the title may very well change once editors and publishers get their hands on a manuscript. But I'm happy with Life in Conversations, even though my Poetic Friend really wants me to call it "Conversations in my Head". Aside: this title always makes me feel slightly unhinged. But I thoroughly plan on writing a poem with that title; I hope it'll be a deep and moving confession of my unhinged-ness.   

Anyway, I began reading The Girl with Glass Feet by Ali Shaw. I'm a just few chapters in but I wanted to share this passage with you because ... well I'm not sure why. 

"He chased it all the way to the fringe of the woods, and followed it into the open, where scrubland sloped down and away from him towards a river. Crows wheeled in a sky of oily rags. Hidden water gurggled nearby, welling into a darks pool at the bottom of the slop. Above the pool, the ray of light dangled like a golden ribbon."

So, what do you think? ... Though this whole passge (which actually spans the length of two pages) is a homage of the simple beauty found in the contrasting nature of Nature, these lines in particular make me think about how we, as humans, are running after a tempting but insubstantial ray of hope in these dark and dismal times. Even if we don't admit it. But more than that, we need to know that there is hope, that we can run after it and try to grab it; for the sake of our sanity, at the very least. I for one, couldn't survive in a world where there wasn't even a hope for Hope. Does that make any sense to you, dear reader?

I'm afraid I must leave you now, for I feel weighed by these abstract thoughts.
Nida   

winter Hauntings

A (late) Happy New Year Dear Reader,

Fear not, for I have not abandoned you in this new year. My time has been occupied by odious exams that began in the first week of January, and the next semester started the week after. And amidst all the bombardment of information, I've also been trying to recuperate from this long suffering flu. Altogether, not a most auspicious start for the year 2011, but I'm hoping and praying that things will get better sooner.

It has also not escaped my notice that I will be finishing my undergraduate education within the next four and a half months. Gulp! This is something I'm not looking forward to. Not because of the impending thought of "what to do next?" (I've always known what to do next) but entirely because I'm loath to depart from my Uni,which has been a second home to me these past three years, and to leave behind my friends, Collective Codename: the Sisterhood, that have been as an extended family. But I cannot think about this right now or I'm likely to go into a long sentimental tangent that would bring tears into the eyes of the most hardened of hearts. 

On a side note, I've set up another page for this blog, the link to which is also in the side bar. It has my favourite Life: as I see it pictures so far. Enjoy.

Moving on. For some unfathomable reason, I have been drawn into to the dark world of ghosts and death in this particularly cold and snowy winter. I have quite a list compiled of chiefly chilling books. Currently I'm reading The Ghost Writer by John Harwood. But of course, my obvious first choice in this case is was The Winter Ghosts by Kate Mosse. I fineshed reading it on the 16th of December, some time ago now but I thought I might as well review it for you, dear reader, anyway.

 I'm not usually much of a 'ghost story' person but since it has been quite some time since I read either Labyrinth or Sepulchre (both by Kate Mosse), I had quite forgotten how much I enjoy Mosse's stories and style of writing. The Winter Ghosts did a great job of reminding me of it. It's about one man's journey to escape the inner ghost of his older brother, only to find himself tangled into a haunted web of conspiracy that took place hundreds of years ago.

What captured my attention particularly in this some-what tragic love story was not the characters but the setting. Mosse describes the scenery in such a way that the mountains, the village, the trees, even the weather, take up a life of their own and speak out as if characters themselves, mourning their history, the suffering that they have witnessed. It leaves one both chilled to the bone and feeling surreal at heart.

On the whole, The Winter Ghosts can now be found among my favourite books. A truly compelling read.


I guess that's all I have to say for today. Until next time with another Book, another Blog and another Review.

Nida