starry eyed night light streetwalkers
I'm in this weird mood where I want to write about something deep and thought-provoking but I don't have anything deep and thought-provoking to write about.
Oh, here's something. But it's not deep or thought-provoking, just something to write about.
1. Quello che hai addomesticato
When I did that three-favorite-books thing earlier, I completely forgot to list The Little Prince. I don't know why-that book has continually been one of my favorites since I was eight years old. I've read it probably upwards of fifty times, I can quote parts of it from memory. When Heather was reading it in French, she came to me so that she could ask "So what happens in Chapter 21?" and I could say "Chapter 21 is the one where the prince tames the fox."
(That's my favorite chapter, by the way. I love the idea that you become responsible for what you tame.)
My love for that book extends to the idea that the only thing I would unquestioningly get tattooed on my body (provided I had the money of course) are the words Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé. You become responsible for what you have tamed. I can say those words in four languages.
I don't really know why I love it so much, though.
When I was working on my senior research paper, Mrs. Housley told me that I wasn't allowed to write it about The Little Prince. She told me that it was children's literature.
That's bullshit. The Little Prince is far from children's literature.
I think that's maybe part of why I love it so much. I couldn't say for sure, but I think that the book is sort of another version of a wolf in sheep's clothing-that is, real literature hiding in the jacket of a children's book. The Little Prince is... it's about responsibility, and growing up, and deciding what's important in life. It's about the vast incomprehensibility of the universe and about unquestioning love, and individuality in the face of a sea of sameness. It's about On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux, it is only with the heart that one can see rightly. That which is essential is invisible to the eye. It's dense, for a book that's only 100 pages long.
I think I love The Little Prince for many of the same reasons that I love the movie Where The Wild Things Are, actually.
This is ostensibly the worst book review ever written.
I bring this up because pinned to my wall above my computer is the design for a tattoo I may one day get. It would be on my left shoulderblade, and it looks like this:
I don't know if I will. I need money and time, but. That's there, in case I ever decide.
2. Homesickness
The other day I found a website called Oregon Scenics, and it's exactly what it sounds like-scenic pictures of Oregon. The funny thing is that looking at this website made me hurt, it made me ache to go home, because I realized that I took Portland for granted when I was there, and now that I'm gone it seems like the best place in the world.
I loved it when I was there, don't get me wrong. But I spent so long thinking, I need to get out, I have to go somewhere that I forgot to love the "somewhere" that was mine.
I love Oregon.
3. In other news
o Work on femslash fic and Starfighter fic
o I register for classes on Tuesday
o Work on English portfolio
o Write paper for American Cultures
o Do old homework for American Cultures
o Blah blah blah blah routine
My journal is so uninteresting. I'm listening to E.S. Posthumus right now-specifically, to Oraanu-and Luna Sans' voice gives me goosebumps.
Thank you aeternitasbeach for the snowflake cookie!
Oh, here's something. But it's not deep or thought-provoking, just something to write about.
1. Quello che hai addomesticato
When I did that three-favorite-books thing earlier, I completely forgot to list The Little Prince. I don't know why-that book has continually been one of my favorites since I was eight years old. I've read it probably upwards of fifty times, I can quote parts of it from memory. When Heather was reading it in French, she came to me so that she could ask "So what happens in Chapter 21?" and I could say "Chapter 21 is the one where the prince tames the fox."
(That's my favorite chapter, by the way. I love the idea that you become responsible for what you tame.)
My love for that book extends to the idea that the only thing I would unquestioningly get tattooed on my body (provided I had the money of course) are the words Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé. You become responsible for what you have tamed. I can say those words in four languages.
I don't really know why I love it so much, though.
When I was working on my senior research paper, Mrs. Housley told me that I wasn't allowed to write it about The Little Prince. She told me that it was children's literature.
That's bullshit. The Little Prince is far from children's literature.
I think that's maybe part of why I love it so much. I couldn't say for sure, but I think that the book is sort of another version of a wolf in sheep's clothing-that is, real literature hiding in the jacket of a children's book. The Little Prince is... it's about responsibility, and growing up, and deciding what's important in life. It's about the vast incomprehensibility of the universe and about unquestioning love, and individuality in the face of a sea of sameness. It's about On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux, it is only with the heart that one can see rightly. That which is essential is invisible to the eye. It's dense, for a book that's only 100 pages long.
I think I love The Little Prince for many of the same reasons that I love the movie Where The Wild Things Are, actually.
This is ostensibly the worst book review ever written.
I bring this up because pinned to my wall above my computer is the design for a tattoo I may one day get. It would be on my left shoulderblade, and it looks like this:
I don't know if I will. I need money and time, but. That's there, in case I ever decide.
2. Homesickness
The other day I found a website called Oregon Scenics, and it's exactly what it sounds like-scenic pictures of Oregon. The funny thing is that looking at this website made me hurt, it made me ache to go home, because I realized that I took Portland for granted when I was there, and now that I'm gone it seems like the best place in the world.
I loved it when I was there, don't get me wrong. But I spent so long thinking, I need to get out, I have to go somewhere that I forgot to love the "somewhere" that was mine.
I love Oregon.
3. In other news
o Work on femslash fic and Starfighter fic
o I register for classes on Tuesday
o Work on English portfolio
o Write paper for American Cultures
o Do old homework for American Cultures
o Blah blah blah blah routine
My journal is so uninteresting. I'm listening to E.S. Posthumus right now-specifically, to Oraanu-and Luna Sans' voice gives me goosebumps.
Thank you aeternitasbeach for the snowflake cookie!