Yes, I've fallen so low that all I have to write about is the most basic of grade school creative writing prompts, but, bear with me.
What would I do if I could travel back in time and witness any historical event?
As you know, I'm particularly fond of history, so, this is a difficult topic for me. There are just so many amazing different occasions that would be really interesting to watch- especially if I could stay safe and sound while watching them. For example, the Black Plaugue would be really informative and interesting, but also really, really scary.
I guess some of the main things I'd like to see if I could go back in time (especially if I could share my discoveries with the world) would be these:
The building of the pyramids and other Egyptian marvels- it would be amazing to finally be able to discover the true mystery of all that, and find out just how the Egyptians made such huge structures without pwoer tools, cranes, or any modern technology. Was it really aliens?
The building of Stonehenge- again, major historical mystery.
The Golden Age of Athens- I would really love to see some of the Ancient Greek plays (if I spoke the language, of course) and speak to some of the great philosophers, mathematicians, and playwrights.
A Shakespearian show during the time of Shakespeare- just not M**beth, please. If you don't understand why that's "censored," the show is unlucky to the extreme. In fact, if you say it in a theatre, you have to go outside the theatre, say it backwards three times while spinning in a circle, spit on the floor, and then wait to be let back in (without knocking or shouting). It's just not a good idea, and I, although not particularly suspicious, see no reason to challenge the powers that be, you know? (Especially after having to go through that.)
The time of the Minoans- Such an advanced civilization (considered to be Atlantis, the Minoans had running water and other technology that wasn't around after their time for centuries). It would be really interesting to see just what else they developed, and see how all these discoveries were made. I would love to know so much more about them.
A Roman bathhouse- I would love to have that experience. The Romans where the cleanest ancient people, and I'd be really interested to see exactly what that meant- studying it only gives you such a view.
History is such an interesting thing. I would love to be present for all of history, even the horrible, violent, bloody parts. But, I suppose that might ruin the whole "present" thing if I was "present" in the "past."
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Invisibility.
The age-old question- if you had an invisibility cloak, what would you do?
We know what Harry Potter (in the books) would do- sneak around the castle, check out forbidden books, visit Hagrid, and, ultimately, defeat Voldemort.
We also know what Harry Potter (in A Very Potter Musical) would do- kick weiner dogs. (If you haven't yet seen A Very Potter Musical, do it now. You heard me- go!)
But what we don't know- and I'm sure you're all DYING to find out- is what I would do if I had an invisibility cloak. And there isn't quite one answer, because there's so many things I'd like to do.
Having always been somewhat suspicious that way, I guess I'd like to really see if people DO talk about me behind my back, and what they say. It'd be reassuring to know for sure that they weren't, and had better things to do.
I would also probably do something illegal, although I wish I was a better person than that- steal a bagel, sneak on to a flight with a lot of empty seats to someplace nicer than here... you know the thing. Seeing as I won't ever get my hands on an invisibility cloak, you don't have to worry about it. And anyways, the whole idea is, what would you do if nobody could see you?
I might stage my own funeral and see who would cry, and what would be said. Typical, I know, but, still- very interesting.
Perhaps I would just escape and go sit somewhere by myself with a nice book and a cup of chai and read and nap.
What about you?
We know what Harry Potter (in the books) would do- sneak around the castle, check out forbidden books, visit Hagrid, and, ultimately, defeat Voldemort.
We also know what Harry Potter (in A Very Potter Musical) would do- kick weiner dogs. (If you haven't yet seen A Very Potter Musical, do it now. You heard me- go!)
But what we don't know- and I'm sure you're all DYING to find out- is what I would do if I had an invisibility cloak. And there isn't quite one answer, because there's so many things I'd like to do.
Having always been somewhat suspicious that way, I guess I'd like to really see if people DO talk about me behind my back, and what they say. It'd be reassuring to know for sure that they weren't, and had better things to do.
I would also probably do something illegal, although I wish I was a better person than that- steal a bagel, sneak on to a flight with a lot of empty seats to someplace nicer than here... you know the thing. Seeing as I won't ever get my hands on an invisibility cloak, you don't have to worry about it. And anyways, the whole idea is, what would you do if nobody could see you?
I might stage my own funeral and see who would cry, and what would be said. Typical, I know, but, still- very interesting.
Perhaps I would just escape and go sit somewhere by myself with a nice book and a cup of chai and read and nap.
What about you?
Hitty II
Hitty traveled with me everywhere I went for years, but Hitty's most dangerous escapade didn't really involve her doing much. I had been baking cookies or something of the like in the kitchen, listening to music and minding my own business (with Hitty on the counter beside me, of course) when, all of a sudden, my dear father comes up behind me, quietly, and SCREAMS RIGHT IN MY EAR! Of course, I jump quite a bit, and my arm bumps the poor little doll, and suddenly, there's this horrible resounding crash, and there's Hitty, her face smashed in, and her legs gone, and just generally destroyed. Of course, I was absolutely devestated, and fled to the backyard and wouldn't talk to my dad again for hours and hours.
When I finally went back in, we (my disgraced father and I) began to pick up the remnants of poor Hitty. Her face was in three pieces, with one chunk gone from the back of her head, one arm was in a few pieces, a leg was cracked, and one foot/leg was entirely torn to pieces, with nothing left below the knee, and dust like pieces all over the floor. Miraculously, we patched her up fairly well (with two months, eight tubes of superglue, and a full batch of epoxy) and, although she hasn't really been quite the same since, she does have all four limbs and a face.
I was, however, a little bit more cautious with her, and after that, she really only went on day outings (with the occasional adventure from the safety of my suitcase). This was her last major injury to date. She has, however, somehow managed to break without anyone doing anything to her at all. Three times now I have come home to find a limb of Hitty's in pieces. I can only assume she's fallen, or gotten knocked around by my cat or mom, or something like that. The last time that's happened was just about two or three weeks ago, and I'm not quite sure I'll be able to fix her leg very well (all that's left is a few bits of lower calf and the shell of a previous epoxy layer), bugt, I'll do my best.
Hitty'll make it. She always does, somehow.
(And now I feel rather silly, talking about a doll as if it were alive. But Hitty sort of does that- she almost has a personality.)
When I finally went back in, we (my disgraced father and I) began to pick up the remnants of poor Hitty. Her face was in three pieces, with one chunk gone from the back of her head, one arm was in a few pieces, a leg was cracked, and one foot/leg was entirely torn to pieces, with nothing left below the knee, and dust like pieces all over the floor. Miraculously, we patched her up fairly well (with two months, eight tubes of superglue, and a full batch of epoxy) and, although she hasn't really been quite the same since, she does have all four limbs and a face.
I was, however, a little bit more cautious with her, and after that, she really only went on day outings (with the occasional adventure from the safety of my suitcase). This was her last major injury to date. She has, however, somehow managed to break without anyone doing anything to her at all. Three times now I have come home to find a limb of Hitty's in pieces. I can only assume she's fallen, or gotten knocked around by my cat or mom, or something like that. The last time that's happened was just about two or three weeks ago, and I'm not quite sure I'll be able to fix her leg very well (all that's left is a few bits of lower calf and the shell of a previous epoxy layer), bugt, I'll do my best.
Hitty'll make it. She always does, somehow.
(And now I feel rather silly, talking about a doll as if it were alive. But Hitty sort of does that- she almost has a personality.)
Monday, June 14, 2010
Hitty I
So, last post I told you all about my very dorky porcelain doll collection. Now I can go into even more detail on this dorky habit, and describe one particular porcelain doll who has gone through quite a lot. Her name is, as you might have guess from the title, Hitty. I took the name from a book I read when I was little about a wooden doll (named Hitty) who had many adventures, from living in an old wood cabin, to become an idol on the island of a bunch full of Pagan savages. (Old book, you know.) The book was called "Hitty: Her First Hundred Years" and was written from the perspective of the doll. Even though my Hitty is porcelain, not wood, I thought the name fit, and she's been Hitty ever seen. Unfortunately, the nickname of "Hit," meaning "beat up the doll" kind of also went along with her, and she's been in a huge amount of accidents.
When i first bought Hitty at a used bookshop, she was already old. Her hair was matted, her dress faded, her eyelashes torn. Nothing new for someone who usually buys old, poor condition dolls. But she looked special to me. She looked old, not just pre-used. I liked her.
So, I started taking this doll with me everywhere (I was only seven or eight). Once, when I went to visit my aunt A (My mom's sister), I took her with me. She flew with me and my mom to my aunt's house, and then stayed there with me after my mom left for almost three weeks. Then she flew with me on my first flight alone, and we went to stay with my dad's brother (my uncle S and his family). But, in the airport with Aunt A, disaster struck. Passing through security, Hitty's arm got caught on something, and broke into about 3 pieces. So, I removed that arm, put the pieces in my glasses case, and trusted that my uncle would be able to fix it (he was). THe thing I didn't realise, however, is that when the arm/leg of a doll comes off, the other limb on the same side will ALSO come off. THey're connected, you see. So, halfway throught eh flight, there goes her leg. Luckily, everything was fine. She was fixed, with only one permanent change- she no longer has a pinky finger on her left hand.
THE ADVENTURES OF HITTY, THE HIGHLY BREAKABLE PORCELAIN DOLL: TO BE CONTINUED
When i first bought Hitty at a used bookshop, she was already old. Her hair was matted, her dress faded, her eyelashes torn. Nothing new for someone who usually buys old, poor condition dolls. But she looked special to me. She looked old, not just pre-used. I liked her.
So, I started taking this doll with me everywhere (I was only seven or eight). Once, when I went to visit my aunt A (My mom's sister), I took her with me. She flew with me and my mom to my aunt's house, and then stayed there with me after my mom left for almost three weeks. Then she flew with me on my first flight alone, and we went to stay with my dad's brother (my uncle S and his family). But, in the airport with Aunt A, disaster struck. Passing through security, Hitty's arm got caught on something, and broke into about 3 pieces. So, I removed that arm, put the pieces in my glasses case, and trusted that my uncle would be able to fix it (he was). THe thing I didn't realise, however, is that when the arm/leg of a doll comes off, the other limb on the same side will ALSO come off. THey're connected, you see. So, halfway throught eh flight, there goes her leg. Luckily, everything was fine. She was fixed, with only one permanent change- she no longer has a pinky finger on her left hand.
THE ADVENTURES OF HITTY, THE HIGHLY BREAKABLE PORCELAIN DOLL: TO BE CONTINUED
Porcelain dolls.
So, it's not particularly the most interesting hobby or collection, but, for the past 10 or so years, I have collected porcelain dolls. You can imagine how many I have by now- I believe I'm currently at over 85. Porcelain dolls aren't cool, I know. They're not fun, you can't really play with them, they're not "mature looking" or anything, they're not punk or hip, they don't look really awesome, they just look old. They look old and fragile and they look like dolls. But I like them.
A lot of people have said that me enjoying "playing" with dolls even now is a sign that I would want to be in a position where I would work with children when I get older- a housewife, a pediatric nurse, a kindergarten teacher, a nanny/babysitter. But I have to say that they're wrong there. First of all, I don't "play" with the dolls. I don't re-enact little scenes with them, they don't "talk" to me, I don't feed them, nothing like that. I care for them. If they break, I fix them up. If their clothes are filthy, I'll wash them. It's not a game, it's general upkeep. Perhaps that shows that I should be something like a museum curator when I'm older instead?
Not all my porcelain dolls even have names. Sure, some of the larger ones (18", 17", 16") have names- Elizabeth, Hitty, Annie, Emily, Laura, Mary, Angela- but just as many have names that wouldn't be used by any human I know of- Gypsy Girl, Girl with Glasses, Girl with Mask, Ballerina, Formal Doll, Christmas One, School Girl, etc. And many of the smaller ones don't have even that- there's just too many. So, if I have to refer to one of them, I'll just point or something like that.
I wouldn't exactly say that I'm a serious collector, even though I have a fairly large amount. To start out, I don't usually buy my dolls from the places that you would usually expect me to- upscale antique stores, from magazines, on the internet, etc. I usually get my dolls from little, cheap antique stores, pawn shops, buy/trade bookstores, etc. In fact, unless I'm particularly fond of a certain doll, I won't pay more than $8 for her.
So, that's my take on a childhood habit gone wrong.
A lot of people have said that me enjoying "playing" with dolls even now is a sign that I would want to be in a position where I would work with children when I get older- a housewife, a pediatric nurse, a kindergarten teacher, a nanny/babysitter. But I have to say that they're wrong there. First of all, I don't "play" with the dolls. I don't re-enact little scenes with them, they don't "talk" to me, I don't feed them, nothing like that. I care for them. If they break, I fix them up. If their clothes are filthy, I'll wash them. It's not a game, it's general upkeep. Perhaps that shows that I should be something like a museum curator when I'm older instead?
Not all my porcelain dolls even have names. Sure, some of the larger ones (18", 17", 16") have names- Elizabeth, Hitty, Annie, Emily, Laura, Mary, Angela- but just as many have names that wouldn't be used by any human I know of- Gypsy Girl, Girl with Glasses, Girl with Mask, Ballerina, Formal Doll, Christmas One, School Girl, etc. And many of the smaller ones don't have even that- there's just too many. So, if I have to refer to one of them, I'll just point or something like that.
I wouldn't exactly say that I'm a serious collector, even though I have a fairly large amount. To start out, I don't usually buy my dolls from the places that you would usually expect me to- upscale antique stores, from magazines, on the internet, etc. I usually get my dolls from little, cheap antique stores, pawn shops, buy/trade bookstores, etc. In fact, unless I'm particularly fond of a certain doll, I won't pay more than $8 for her.
So, that's my take on a childhood habit gone wrong.
History.
Everyone has heard the phrase "A person with no past has no present and no future."
Everyone has heard "Those who do not study history are destined to repeat it."
And yet it seems that few people really stop to think about that, or what history really is. Few students are truly interested in history, and few adults are interested in it when they leave school, either. Sure, there's a history channel on TV, history magazines, tons of history books.... But do many people actually listen to/ watch/ read these just for the fun of it? No, not really. History is, to most people, something you're forced to study in school. You read about it, memorize facts and dates, write an essay, take a test, prepare for the exam, and you're done. No real thought put it. Often, it's the same with history teachers, too- assign textbook reading, give a lecture, write an essay prompt, grade the text, write an exam, and you're done.
I think about history differently, or so I like to believe. Whenever I study a topic, or read an article about one, or watch a program on History International, I try to think about the people involved. This isn't just fiction. These stories, however fabulous, frightening, horrible, trivial, unfortunate, unbelievable they seem, are accounts of actual events that happened to someone, somewhere. These things made up someone's life. It may just be a chapter in a textbook to us, an hour or less in our lives, but someone lived it. The Brown expedition on the Grand Canyon, for example- that man died trying to do something that hundreds of thousands of people do each year, now. He died so we could indirectly, eventually, vacation on the River, litter, scare away wildlife.. and hardly anyone knows a thing about him. Of course, there are hundreds of stories just like his that I've never heard of, that maybe nobody has heard of. Adventures and epics and romances that are lost forever.
So, that's my little rant for the day. Remember where you came from. Remember the sufferings of the people of the past, but remember their joys, too. We can learn from the past. History can be more than just a boring class with a boring teacher who just wants some more coffee. I know I sound rather old and stuffy when I say it, but, history can be fun.
Everyone has heard "Those who do not study history are destined to repeat it."
And yet it seems that few people really stop to think about that, or what history really is. Few students are truly interested in history, and few adults are interested in it when they leave school, either. Sure, there's a history channel on TV, history magazines, tons of history books.... But do many people actually listen to/ watch/ read these just for the fun of it? No, not really. History is, to most people, something you're forced to study in school. You read about it, memorize facts and dates, write an essay, take a test, prepare for the exam, and you're done. No real thought put it. Often, it's the same with history teachers, too- assign textbook reading, give a lecture, write an essay prompt, grade the text, write an exam, and you're done.
I think about history differently, or so I like to believe. Whenever I study a topic, or read an article about one, or watch a program on History International, I try to think about the people involved. This isn't just fiction. These stories, however fabulous, frightening, horrible, trivial, unfortunate, unbelievable they seem, are accounts of actual events that happened to someone, somewhere. These things made up someone's life. It may just be a chapter in a textbook to us, an hour or less in our lives, but someone lived it. The Brown expedition on the Grand Canyon, for example- that man died trying to do something that hundreds of thousands of people do each year, now. He died so we could indirectly, eventually, vacation on the River, litter, scare away wildlife.. and hardly anyone knows a thing about him. Of course, there are hundreds of stories just like his that I've never heard of, that maybe nobody has heard of. Adventures and epics and romances that are lost forever.
So, that's my little rant for the day. Remember where you came from. Remember the sufferings of the people of the past, but remember their joys, too. We can learn from the past. History can be more than just a boring class with a boring teacher who just wants some more coffee. I know I sound rather old and stuffy when I say it, but, history can be fun.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
