(no subject)
Today was a wonderful day from head to toe, and promises to be even more wonderful.
After a rehearsal that let out at about 12:30 or 1:00 ish, I went to bed, woke up at 5:30, painted Beta Bridge with Elizabeth (go look at it, it is beautiful), came back for a hot shower (baby it's cold outside!) and went to class, where I came very close to falling asleep when I remembered that I am actually really interested in Paradise Lost and should do my best to stay awake, which venture I facilitated by drawing pictures of adam and eve all over my notebook. Then, I went to Hebrew, which is always a blast, and to Black Power Narratives, where we discussed the sexuality of Meridain, a novel by Alice Walker which is simply phenomenal, and I was very interested and spoke a lot in class and gained some feeling good about myself points. Then lunch with Annie Nanda and Laura, which is always the highlite of every week, and then class with Laura, where I again entertained myself by doodling on my and Laura's notebook. Then, back to the dorm room where I CALLED MY SISTER, which was wonderful beyond beleif. And now to tea, and class, and then back to write the Hillel e-mail I totally forgot about yesterday (oops!), and bake brownies for the BN concert, and then to BN rehearsal, which will end who knows when in the morning.
Remind me to tell you about my revelational experience involving my newfound profound love of English and literature. Not that I didn't have one before. Maybe it is more of a rediscovery.
Anyway, to tea.
And before I go, let me say this:
"Marilla," she demanded presently, "do you think that I shall ever have a bosom friend in Avonlea?"
"A-a what kind of friend?"
"A bosom friend-an intimate friend, you know-a really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my inmost soul. I've dreamed of meeting her all my life. I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too. Do you think it's possible?"
"Diana Barry lives over at Orchard Slope and she's about your age. She's a very nice little girl, and perhaps she will be a playmate for you when she comes home. She's visiting her aunt over at Carmody just now. You'll have to be careful how you behave yourself, though. Mrs. Barry is a very particular woman. She won't let Diana play with any little girl who isn't nice and good."
Anne looked at Marilla through the apple blossoms, her eyes aglow with interest.
"What is Diana like? Her hair isn't red, is it? Oh, I hope not. It's bad enough to have red hair myself, but I positively couldn't endure it in a bosom friend."
"Diana is a very pretty little girl. She has black eyes and hair and rosy cheeks. And she is good and smart, which is better than being pretty."
Marilla was as fond of morals as the Duchess in Wonderland, and was firmly convinced that one should be tacked on to every remark made to a child who was being brought up.
But Anne waved the moral inconsequently aside and seized only on the delightful possibilities before it.
"Oh, I'm so glad she's pretty. Next to being beautiful oneself-and that's impossible in my case-it would be best to have a beautiful bosom friend. When I lived with Mrs. Thomas she had a bookcase in her sitting room with glass doors. There weren't any books in it; Mrs. Thomas kept her best china and her preserves there-when she had any preserves to keep. One of the doors was broken. Mr. Thomas smashed it one night when he was slightly intoxicated. But the other was whole and I used to pretend that my reflection in it was another little girl who lived in it. I called her Katie Maurice, and we were very intimate. I used to talk to her by the hour, especially on Sunday, and tell her everything. Katie was the comfort and consolation of my life. We used to pretend that the bookcase was enchanted and that if I only knew the spell I could open the door and step right into the room where Katie Maurice lived, instead of into Mrs. Thomas' shelves of preserves and china. And then Katie Maurice would have taken me by the hand and led me out into a wonderful place, all flowers and sunshine and fairies, and we would have lived there happy for ever after. When I went to live with Mrs. Hammond it just broke my heart to leave Katie Maurice. She felt it dreadfully, too, I know she did, for she was crying when she kissed me good-bye through the bookcase door. There was no bookcase at Mrs. Hammond's. But just up the river a little way from the house there was a long green little valley, and the loveliest echo lived there. It echoed back every word you said, even if you didn't talk a bit loud. So I imagined that it was a little girl called Violetta and we were great friends and I loved her almost as well as I loved Katie Maurice-not quite, but almost, you know. The night before I went to the asylum I said good-bye to Violetta, and oh, her good-bye came back to me in such sad, sad tones. I had become so attached to her that I hadn't the heart to imagine a bosom friend at the asylum, even if there had been any scope for imagination there."
"I think it's just as well there wasn't," said Marilla drily. "I don't approve of such goings-on. You seem to half believe your own imaginations. It will be well for you to have a real live friend to put such nonsense out of your head. But don't let Mrs. Barry hear you talking about your Katie Maurices and your Violettas or she'll think you tell stories."
"Oh, I won't. I couldn't talk of them to everybody-their memories are too sacred for that. But I thought I'd like to have you know about them. Oh, look, here's a big bee just tumbled out of an apple blossom. Just think what a lovely place to live-in an apple blossom! Fancy going to sleep in it when the wind was rocking it. If I wasn't a human girl I think I'd like to be a bee and live among the flowers."
See Annie - you ARE her after all. And I have always wanted a bosom friend just like ALL of you. How lucky am I! Hoorah! I have the best friends in the world!
After a rehearsal that let out at about 12:30 or 1:00 ish, I went to bed, woke up at 5:30, painted Beta Bridge with Elizabeth (go look at it, it is beautiful), came back for a hot shower (baby it's cold outside!) and went to class, where I came very close to falling asleep when I remembered that I am actually really interested in Paradise Lost and should do my best to stay awake, which venture I facilitated by drawing pictures of adam and eve all over my notebook. Then, I went to Hebrew, which is always a blast, and to Black Power Narratives, where we discussed the sexuality of Meridain, a novel by Alice Walker which is simply phenomenal, and I was very interested and spoke a lot in class and gained some feeling good about myself points. Then lunch with Annie Nanda and Laura, which is always the highlite of every week, and then class with Laura, where I again entertained myself by doodling on my and Laura's notebook. Then, back to the dorm room where I CALLED MY SISTER, which was wonderful beyond beleif. And now to tea, and class, and then back to write the Hillel e-mail I totally forgot about yesterday (oops!), and bake brownies for the BN concert, and then to BN rehearsal, which will end who knows when in the morning.
Remind me to tell you about my revelational experience involving my newfound profound love of English and literature. Not that I didn't have one before. Maybe it is more of a rediscovery.
Anyway, to tea.
And before I go, let me say this:
"Marilla," she demanded presently, "do you think that I shall ever have a bosom friend in Avonlea?"
"A-a what kind of friend?"
"A bosom friend-an intimate friend, you know-a really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my inmost soul. I've dreamed of meeting her all my life. I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too. Do you think it's possible?"
"Diana Barry lives over at Orchard Slope and she's about your age. She's a very nice little girl, and perhaps she will be a playmate for you when she comes home. She's visiting her aunt over at Carmody just now. You'll have to be careful how you behave yourself, though. Mrs. Barry is a very particular woman. She won't let Diana play with any little girl who isn't nice and good."
Anne looked at Marilla through the apple blossoms, her eyes aglow with interest.
"What is Diana like? Her hair isn't red, is it? Oh, I hope not. It's bad enough to have red hair myself, but I positively couldn't endure it in a bosom friend."
"Diana is a very pretty little girl. She has black eyes and hair and rosy cheeks. And she is good and smart, which is better than being pretty."
Marilla was as fond of morals as the Duchess in Wonderland, and was firmly convinced that one should be tacked on to every remark made to a child who was being brought up.
But Anne waved the moral inconsequently aside and seized only on the delightful possibilities before it.
"Oh, I'm so glad she's pretty. Next to being beautiful oneself-and that's impossible in my case-it would be best to have a beautiful bosom friend. When I lived with Mrs. Thomas she had a bookcase in her sitting room with glass doors. There weren't any books in it; Mrs. Thomas kept her best china and her preserves there-when she had any preserves to keep. One of the doors was broken. Mr. Thomas smashed it one night when he was slightly intoxicated. But the other was whole and I used to pretend that my reflection in it was another little girl who lived in it. I called her Katie Maurice, and we were very intimate. I used to talk to her by the hour, especially on Sunday, and tell her everything. Katie was the comfort and consolation of my life. We used to pretend that the bookcase was enchanted and that if I only knew the spell I could open the door and step right into the room where Katie Maurice lived, instead of into Mrs. Thomas' shelves of preserves and china. And then Katie Maurice would have taken me by the hand and led me out into a wonderful place, all flowers and sunshine and fairies, and we would have lived there happy for ever after. When I went to live with Mrs. Hammond it just broke my heart to leave Katie Maurice. She felt it dreadfully, too, I know she did, for she was crying when she kissed me good-bye through the bookcase door. There was no bookcase at Mrs. Hammond's. But just up the river a little way from the house there was a long green little valley, and the loveliest echo lived there. It echoed back every word you said, even if you didn't talk a bit loud. So I imagined that it was a little girl called Violetta and we were great friends and I loved her almost as well as I loved Katie Maurice-not quite, but almost, you know. The night before I went to the asylum I said good-bye to Violetta, and oh, her good-bye came back to me in such sad, sad tones. I had become so attached to her that I hadn't the heart to imagine a bosom friend at the asylum, even if there had been any scope for imagination there."
"I think it's just as well there wasn't," said Marilla drily. "I don't approve of such goings-on. You seem to half believe your own imaginations. It will be well for you to have a real live friend to put such nonsense out of your head. But don't let Mrs. Barry hear you talking about your Katie Maurices and your Violettas or she'll think you tell stories."
"Oh, I won't. I couldn't talk of them to everybody-their memories are too sacred for that. But I thought I'd like to have you know about them. Oh, look, here's a big bee just tumbled out of an apple blossom. Just think what a lovely place to live-in an apple blossom! Fancy going to sleep in it when the wind was rocking it. If I wasn't a human girl I think I'd like to be a bee and live among the flowers."
See Annie - you ARE her after all. And I have always wanted a bosom friend just like ALL of you. How lucky am I! Hoorah! I have the best friends in the world!