Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
I was unaware just how much I read, however, until I saw Yat-Yee's post listing the books she read this summer. Whoa, I said, that's a lot of books. But, curious, I began to inventory what I read between late May and now. I was shocked to find my list was even longer. I must have inhaled them or read them in my sleep.
It was a fine summer. Did you tuck into a few books, too?
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Star-crossed lovers. Here are stories that live eternally, and I think it's because they are guaranteed to make us cry. Who doesn't have a lost love in their past? Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" is so popular, it has been re-invented again and again.
But before R&J was Tristan and Isolde, and, boy, can that one turn on my faucet. Brave, noble Tristan betrays his king to be with his love and then leaves his love to save his king. Oh, the agony.
Yes, that story can wash away hidden corners of sorrow and hurt, ferret out grief, scrub me raw and hang me up to dry.
Researchers say crying regulates breathing, thus calming heart rate and anxiety. Some scientists think toxins are released through tears, which come when the cerebrum recognizes sadness and triggers the endocrine system to release hormones. This is what makes eyes puddle up.
Apparently in Japan, there are clubs that watch sad movies together for a good group cry.
How about Buffy and Angel.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Bye-bye summer. Farewell to long days when everyone can play outside until bedtime, when breezes carry excited voices, when soft-serve melts on your fingers, when flip-flops flap on the sidewalk. And good-bye, too, to sand in the sheets, peeling noses and sweaty nights.
This cool graphic comes from Penniwig's.
Do mermaids say good-bye to summer? Do they miss a warm doze upon a rock? Or are they glad the tourists go home?
I confess: I have mermaids. Among them is a wildly colorful poster in my writing room. Another is a beautiful creature with scary hands on a candy dish/ashtray thingie purchased at a Renaissance fair.
And then there is the haunting mermaid on a ceramic vase that belonged to a dear friend, gone now from this world. I think of him when I see her reaching out imploringly from the waves.
Do not this panda and songbird make you smile?