Day Nine-- Summer Reading

Here are a couple of reviews on books I've read or am reading this summer. Besides The Alchemist and Crime and Punishment, I also read the Stieg Larsson series (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) and The Book Thief. Very good for me as I'm a slow reader. I know, I know, English teachers are supposed to rip through them, but I just can't--maybe because I'm a writer too?

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


Mixed feelings about it. Really liked it in some places and then other times it was too heavy-handed for my taste. I did really like some of the writing. I'll add some of my favorite quotes later.

Here's one of my favorite quotes:

"But the sheep had taught him something even more important: that there was a language in the world that everyone understood,....It was the language of enthusiasm, of things accomplished with love and purpose, and as a part of a search for something believed in and desired" (62).



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Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Read years ago in college, but I wanted to read it again.

I'm just starting the third chapter--slow because I'm trying to read too many books at once, but I remember now how brilliant Dostoyevsky is and why I love this book.

Here's the speech by the drunkard Marmeladov who has reached the depth of his despair: "...He will summon us. 'You too come forth,' He will say. 'Come forth, ye drunkards, come forth, ye weak ones, come forth, ye children of shame!' And the wise ones and those of understanding will say, 'Oh Lord, why dost Thou receive these men?' And He will say, 'This is why I receive them, oh ye wise, this is why I receive them, oh ye of understanding, that not one of them believed himself to be worthy of this.' And He will hold out His hands to us and we shall fall down before Him...and we shall weep...and we shall understand all things! Then we shall understand all!...and all will understand, Katerina Ivanovna even...she will understand..."

Oh my. That is astounding.

Here's another great quote (Part II, Chapter 5) and very apropos, I must say.

"What answer had your lecturer in Moscow to make to the question why he was forging notes? 'Everybody is getting rich one way or another, so I want to make haste to get rich too.' I don't remember the exact words, but the upshot was that he wants money for nothing, without waiting or working! We've grown used to having everything ready-made, to walking on crutches, to having our food chewed for us. Then the great hour struck, and every man showed himself in his true colours."

Quite fits, doesn't it? Uncomfortably so.



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Day Eight--I'm going to England!

Ever since I watched the old black and white version of Midsummer Night's Dream when I was just a wee lassie, I've been an anglophile. I was only about seven or eight years old, and I understood very little of what was said, but I thought the physical humor was hilarious! I still have that image of Puck, with his tiny horns, in my head all these years later.

As I was growing up, before the days of cable, yes, I know, I am old, my mother used to watch Masterpiece Theatre and later Mystery on Public TV. Through those shows I learned to love British literature. Watching I, Claudius, The Pallisers, The Barchester Chronicles, Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice and Bleak House, introducing me to four of my favorite British authors, Robert Graves, Anthony Trollope, Jane Austen and Charles Dickens. Oh, and there were so many more.

Then came Mystery! I watched faithfully and became enthralled with the police procedural/detective story set in Britain: Prime Suspect, Inspector Morse (and now Lewis), Poirot, Miss Marple, Sherlock Holmes, Lord Peter Wimsey, Adam Dagliesh (P.D. James). Oh, I just couldn't get enough.

And how can I forget the comedy: Fry and Laurie, French and Saunders, Fawlty Towers, Are You Being Served, Benny Hill, The Young Ones, and of course, my favorite, Monty Python's Flying Circus. The Spam skit still cracks me up, and Bicycle Repair Man, and Argument Clinic and the cheese shop and the Grand Inquisitor and the Lumberjack song and...and... and. Oh, how I loved to laugh, even when I didn't really get the joke. It just sounded funny.

And all those great British actors: Alan Rickman, Derek Jacobi, Anthony Andrews, Susan Hampshire, Daniel Craig, Clive Owen, Helen Mirren, Hugh Laurie, the list goes on and on.

My favorite courses in undergraduate school were Victorian Literature and 17th Century British Literature. In graduate school one of my areas of concentration was 19th Century British Literature, and at Blue Ridge Community College, where I work, I teach British Literature I and II.

But I've never been to England!

In a couple of weeks, the long drought ends. I go to England for five glorious days. Riots or no riots, I'm going. It's a theater tour arranged by a dear friend of mine. We'll see three plays--Richard III starring Kevin Spacey, Andrew Lloyd Webber's production of The Wizard of Oz, and Warhorse, winner of five Tony awards, including Best Play. We'll also visit some of the famous sights and generally drink in the London atmosphere--away from the tear gas, I hope. I'm getting excited just typing this. To see plays and some of the sights of London that I've only read about is such a special gift. I don't know how I will repay my friend for her generosity.

I suppose I can best repay her by enjoying this trip as much as I possibly can and bringing home to my students a deeper understanding of the great literature of Mother England.

Day Seven--Quick Post

Just a quick brag post. Hannah finished her film for her MTV film class at Flat Rock Playhouse, and it came out pretty good. She likes it because it's the first video she can really call her own, she says. She did all the lighting, filming, everything--with some help from her great teachers Dave Hart and Eric Leach at the Youtheatre. Take a look, but be warned--it's creeeeeeepyyyyy!!!!!!


One other note: I'm reading another Anne Perry novel--she writes great mysteries, many of them are set in Victorian England, and 19th Century British Lit. is my specialty, so I am naturally drawn to her books. I especially like how her characters often discuss ethical issues that are so relevant for us today. For example, here's a great quote I read today: "The time will come when we ourselves are disliked or misunderstood, or strangers, different from our judges in race or class or creed, and if their sense of justice depends upon their passion rather than their morality, who is to speak for us then, or defend our right to the truth?"

Good question. Wow!

FYI

A small update. By the way, I'm probably never going to have a schedule for posting to this blog; I'm just going to post when I feel like it. If that bothers you, well... sorry. I guess.

Anyway. My update. I now have my own identity! In other words, I'm not labeled as Katie Winkler when I post. Yay! More importantly, my best friend just started her own blog, Lexey and Company, which I am also contributing to. Double yay! So... um... yeah. If you're interested.

I'm Baaaack...

Hey. Guess who? ME! The Amazing Hannah Winkler! I know you're excited, but please hold your applause until the end. You might miss something important. Today, I'm going to teach you about something immensely important.

Emoticons! (AKA "smileys")

Yep, you heard me. Emoticons are important. Extremely important. Why? I have no idea. They just are. So, here it is. The Amazing Hannah Winkler's guide to emoticons. (Not the fancy little premade ones. The good old hand typed kind.)

:) - This is your basic smiley. It conveys happiness, or other similar nice feelings. Also can look like- :-)

:( - A basic frowny face. It conveys unhappy emotions, everything from mild displeasure to severe depression. Also looks like :-(

-_- - This is a little more advanced. It can serve various purposes, but it typically signifies boredom or sometimes exasperation.

:/ - This emoticon is used when one is confused and unsure. As you can imagine, I don't use this very much.

;) - A winking face. Flirtatious or mischievous.

^_^ - This is a... I'm not really sure what this is. It's cute though.

:3 - Ummm... yeah. I don't know what that is either.

B-) - Hmmm. No clue.

You know, I've just decided that maybe I'm not the most learned person concerning this subject.

Ahem.

Class dismissed.

Day Six--Divestiture

My sister Ronda died in April--ovarian cancer. I've been thinking a lot about her as I try to go about and pretend that my life is normal, that it can ever be normal now that my only sister is gone. I suppose over time I will develop that new normal everyone talks about--that I will think of her watching from beyond or being right beside me, but right now, I don't feel that way. I feel directionless and empty.

Today, Hannah rode her horse Precious, the beautiful, headstrong American Quarter horse mare that my sister gave her a few years ago. When she gave us the horse, Ronda was already suffering the ill effects of the cancer and several other disorders, including Type I diabetes, with its accompanying maladies, and Wegner's Disease. She had begun the divestiture that so many acutely ill people begin, even while there still seems to be some hope.

Hannah's had trouble with the horse lately. She'll be fine one day and then the next, she'll rear or buck or try to run Hannah into the bushes or a tree even. I want to get rid of the horse when she does that, but how do I tell my sixteen-year-old to sell a living, breathing memorial to her aunt.

But today, Precious was quiet. She did what she was directed to do, although I told Hannah, or maybe I just thought it, "Let's not ask for too much from her today. Let's have a quiet day." So we did. Hannah lunged her; she trotted and loped in big circles between the jumps in the center of the ring. Then Hannah got on her--walked and trotted--circling, stopping, backing. From time to time Hannah would reach down and pat the sweating neck.

A hot day--too hot for a fight.

When they were through, Hannah rode to the center of the ring, sighed and dropped her body down on the little dun's neck. The mare stood there, didn't move, and then slowly Hannah brought her body up, dropped the reins and barely tapped the horse's side with her heels.

Precious began to walk. Hannah didn't touch the reins. Into the middle of the ring, down the center. I laughed as she headed for the one spot of shade on the far side of the ring where she stopped and waited for Hannah to ask her to move again.

Until that moment I had been so angry at that little horse. She had tried to hurt my daughter, so I didn't want her in our lives anymore. Just one more obligation, an expensive one and sometimes a dangerous one--so strong and powerful and my daughter so small.

But Hannah wants this chance to conquer a powerful force. She needs it--at least for now.

So we will not divest ourselves of this expensive and troublesome animal, I thought as Hannah slid safely to the ground. We'll work with her and pay expensive vet bills and training bills to help make her safe, and we will wait for her to become the horse she is meant to be, the one my sister wanted her to be--for Hannah.

Day Five of Katie's Blogging and First 24 Hours of 48 Hour Film Project

A lull in the Asheville 48-Hour Film Project craziness. I'm not too involved this year because of the high stress factor. I don't need any more high stress situations It's fun stress but if you don't know about the 48-Hour film project, then you have no idea how stressful fun stress is.

The ultimate stress was the year the team I was on won. That was 2008 when the DVD was not finalized and we in the car headed to turn in had to contact the car behind us as well as the editor. Those in the car behind rushed back to the College, picked up the finalized film and rushed it to the Asheville Pizza and Brewing Company where the contest is held every year. One of our actors sprinted across the parking lot as the car was turning in, sprinted back and handed the film to our director who turned it in as everyone in the room was counting down 10...9...8.... So guess what our team is called this year. 10...9...8...Productions. And the man who drove the "Getthere" car is our director!

Fun stress!!

Fun Stress!

Day One of Hannah Blogging ("Blog". Giggle.)

Guess what?
...
...
...
It's time for...
...
...
...
Hannah Winkler! (Monty Python "yay")

So, I decided to write my first post for this blog today because of my overwhelming urge to unleash my creativity, become famous at the age of sixteen, and make a difference in the world. But mostly because Mom made me.

So...um...hi. I'm not entirely sure what to blog about here. Let's see... there's food, animals, summer... hmmmm... I know!

Today, I will be talking about the word "blog". Such a funny word... blog blog blog blog blog blog blog. Did you know that the word "blog" is actually short for "weblog"? You did? Good for you, smart person. Did you know that the modern blog evolved from the online diary, and that the first recognized blogger was some college student named Justin Hall? You did? Liar. 


I guess you're used to reading blogs that are cute, charming, clever, helpful, inspiring, and/or meaningful. Well, I'll let Mom provide all of that.


I'm just a weird teenager who badly needs something productive to do. So maybe I'll at least be entertaining. 


Bye!

Day ? of Hannah's Driving and Day Four of Katie's Blogging

I had to take a few days off from blogging to finish the manuscript review I was doing for McGraw-Hill. If you're a nine-month employee like me, it's nice to have these reviewing jobs to generate a little extra cash. I like doing them too because it's one of the few times my expertise in writing and writing instruction is noted.

But I'm not going to whine about that. Why waste the energy when I can blog, right?

Earlier today I spent time working on my play "A Carolina Story"--it's a musical set in Western North Carolina during the depression--basically the story of Job, but my Job is a woman. I know there have been many play versions of Job--There's Robert Frost's version, "A Masque of Reason," Neil Simon's "God's Favorite," and Archibald Macleish's "J.B.", just to name a few.

But what the hey. I wrote another one.

It is quickly becoming my style. I wrote a book called "Mordecai Tales" based on the Canterbury Tales, but mine takes place in modern-day Alabama, (Sharyn McCrumb wrote a book not long ago called St. Dale, that's the Canterbury Tales set in North Carolina about fans of Dale Earnhardt), and I have plans to write a play based on Robert Browning's book-length dramatic poem "The Ring and the Book." Now that one I thought no one would have tried to dramatize, but, go figure, there was a radio play written based on "The Ring and the Book" that came out a few years ago on BBC radio.

I can't win.

There's nothing new under the sun.

Oh well, I wrote it and will write it anyway.

Mine will be mine alone, marked like a cat marks the furniture!

Well, maybe not.

Marked like Neil Armstrong marked the moon!

Yeah!

Day Three--Driving and Blogging

Hannah was off to Black Bear Coffee in Hendo to meet with her boyfriend and best girlfriend early this morning for the third day of her life as a driver. Guess why? To discuss the book they plan to write together! So this mother-daughter blog is apropos. Like mother-like daughter.  Now, I need to get Hannah to write her first blog, but I think she's loving her new found independence right now, so I'll write again for her.

Hannah and I are both writers, but Hannah is one of the few people I know who writes for the joy of it. Me, I like to revise, but it's hard to force myself to sit down and do the initial writing. I can come up with ideas all day long-- but plotting and composing--that's another matter entirely.

Once I sit down though and get started, I can write steadily and even enjoy it. The real joy for me comes when I have the rough draft completed, and I get to go back and revise, manipulating my words and sentences, moving things around until I reach the semantic rhythm I'm seeking, the right feel for each sentence. It sounds crazy, but that's fun.

I remember when I first knew I wanted to be a writer. I was in the sixth grade; we were living outside of Chicago at the now closed army base, Ft. Sheridan (Mom said it was a golf course for the officers surrounded by military buildings). It was at the tail end of the Vietnam War and Dad, a major in army intelligence, was stationed at Ft. Sheridan upon completion of his tour of duty in Vietnam.

The post was too small for a school system, so we army brats were bused to the surrounding schools. I had several strikes against me--I was southern, short, wore glasses and was an army brat in a civilian school during a highly unpopular war. I remember one time how protesters threw eggs at our bus as it drove out of the gates one morning.

At school I was teased, not so much for being an army brat, more for being southern. I remember one kid came up and said, "Hey, do you eat Kentucky Fried Chicken every day?" (Yes, KFC does stand for Kentucky Fried Chicken--it used to be proud to be fried.) Another day, someone came up to me and asked, "Do you really hate black people?"  Seeing that I never saw an African-American in our school except for my fellow army brats, I thought this a strange question.

I did have trouble fitting in, but only at first. My best friend Stella Begley lived on base, but I also remember my friend Patti, a tall girl of Italian heritage, her hair a mass of thick, dark curls. She invited me to her sleepover birthday party, and after that, I remember frequent invitations to spacious, beautiful homes in the Lake Forest area. For my birthday present, my parents gave me a series of horseback riding lessons at the beautiful and prestigious Onwentsia Stables (I think it's just a golf club now.). It was beautiful, had cobblestone aisles. I learned to jump there and had a crush on my riding instructor.

I also went into Chicago on several field trips, the most meaningful of which was to the Art Institute of Chicago. It was there that I truly started to understand art. I remember this black painting-I now know the artist is Ad Reinhardt. Here's a link to an article about the painting I saw: http://www.jstor.org/pss/4112980.  When I first saw this painting, I thought, "Why is this black painting in a museum--it's just black. But as I got closer and closer to the painting, I could see the lines and ridges from the brush and found meaning--so simple to my mind then--you must get close to something to truly understand it--there is meaning, even in a dark life.

But the person who helped me the most those years in Chicago was my English teacher, Mrs. Riskind. She was young with straight, long brown hair, often held in place by a macrame head band or scarf. She wore trendy, hippie clothes and wore Birkenstock sandals. I thought she was beautiful, and best of all, she treated me just like she treated everyone else, with dignity and respect. I wasn't an army brat or a southerner to her; I was a student who was learning to love writing.

The big day was when she picked my paragraph to put up on the overhead. Only the best of the best every made its way to the overhead, so the day she asked me if she could put mine up, I trembled with excitement. I was happy, but I was also afraid. Even the best work can be improved, Mrs Riskind would say and thus open up the writing to criticism. But it wasn't that bad. My classmates liked my paragraph about the first time I fell off my little pony Buttermilk. They liked my description of my grandmother's farm in Alabama. They asked me questions about the day I described in my writing and seemed truly interested. They did find a few errors, but overall, they validated how I felt about my own writing--that it was good.

I had found out what I wanted to do with my life--I wanted to write and I wanted to teach.

Thank you, Mrs. Riskind.

Day Two of Hannah's Driving and My Blogging

Here it is Day Two of my blogging and Day Two of Hannah's driving solo. Hannah has safely arrived at her voice teacher's house. I called our insurance company this morning to be sure she was fully covered and to find out our new insurance premium. Oh me! We knew it would be an increase, but more than double the premium? Also, NC does not give any sort of good student discount like other states. I like living here though and I like our insurance company and all teenagers cost more and we only have one child and we can afford insurance and we both work and we have a lot of friends and life is good.

That doesn't mean it couldn't be better. It definitely could. Life would be instantly better if

1. Florida outlawed cameras in courtrooms and/or 24 hour news became a thing of the past
2. Administrators, including presidents, of educational institutions spent a minimum of two years in the classroom under the guidance of a master teacher. 
3. My daughter's university tuition was paid for by the government. That ain't gonna happen but a person can dream, can't she? Germany does it, or used to, so why can't we? 
4. All high school graduates spent two years either in the military or serving some charitable organization
5. High School for non-university-bound students ended after the sophomore year.                                        This one needs some explanation. College prep students would attend three more years and then attend university, entering as juniors. Think of the money this would save Americans! Make higher education tuition free but a result of hard work and dedication throughout a person's educational career. Spend tax payer's dollars on students who want to learn at a high level of scholarship and have the abilities to do well in academia. Community colleges like where I work would become the place where the graduates of the career-track high schools would go. If they excel in the career track, they could choose to apply to the university after graduating, or they could choose to go immediately into their chosen career. There would still be choice but only for those who value their education and prove themselves while obtaining their general liberal arts education. This is lso an idea born out of my study of the German educational system.
6. Parents valued education for its own sake. I believe in liberal arts education because I believe in teaching students how to think. That is what our schools should be doing. To me, the curriculum is secondary. We have information all surrounding us, at our fingertips, but what we need is a citizenry that can wade through all the crap that's out there by effectively analyzing and evaluating the myriad of information that swarms about us. My mother, a librarian, said, "Getting an education means learning how to find things." How true, Mom. 
7. People learned how to write well. Other forms of communication are important too, but writing well is a critical sign of the intellectual health of a person
8. People put other people ahead of themselves. Call it outmoded. Call it cliche. Call it hokey. Call it anything you want. I know it's true. The quality of my life is never better than when I am serving someone else, putting his or her feelings, needs, wants and wishes above my own. The hard part is discerning what that person's needs really are. It's easy to fool ourselves into thinking we're doing something out of sacrificial love when the motive is really pure selfishness. I'm not being self-righteous here. I know how much I fail in this area, and I know that any misery that comes to me, comes when I break the Golden Rule. My father, an ordained minister, said, "If you love people, you can't go wrong." How true, Dad. But so hard to do. 

That's enough words for today. I have much to do and times awastin'. 

July 6, 2010

My first blog. I'm a blogger. I'm blogging.

And trying not to panic.

My sixteen year old daughter just got her license and she's on her first solo trip. She should have been where she's going ten minutes ago, but she's not there.

Don't panic--blog

But what good does blogging do.

Oh, well, it kept me busy. Her friend just texted and said she made it.

My daughter is a driver and I'm a blogger.

What now?