Moira dipped her fingers slowly into the sack of grain -- she loved the way it felt against her skin. She stood in the marketplace, taking in the bustling sights and succulent smells. She grinned to hear the baker quibble familiarly with his wife over the prices they charged and of which items more would be needed today. A group of churchwomen congregated together, clicking their tongues as they gossiped about everyone else. The menfolk made their way away from the hubbub to see the new machinery on display over at Ben Rooney's place. Children ran laughing through the street, darting behind this booth and that one, and around ol' blind Tom.
He was standing there with Magnus, who dutifully waited, tail a-wagging, to lead Tom on to make the necessary purchases. His companion would not budge, however, for though he could not see, he knew he had the young ladies enthralled with his recollections of his adventures at sea. Magnus whimpered silently; the story had reached its end, and the other young women were lured away by the nearby rich fabrics in the general store. Tom started in on the same tale for a second time, and she gave Magnus a pat, encouraging them to continue with their day. It was good to hear his voice again, Moira thought.
She slowly meandered to her favourite garden stand. Its faded sign had been painted long ago by little Rebecca, the long-gone daughter of the old couple who ran it. There was Robert, a big man with a shock of white hair and crinkly, smiling eyes, and his wife Kathleen, a stately, tenderhearted woman with a love for children. Moira bought an apple, smiling to herself as she watched a very wee, trembling child change her expression from terror to delight as the big man looming overhead, taking up the sky, offered her a juicy apple. What good people they are, she mused.
As she strolled along the outskirts of town, the sea air caressed her rosy cheek. The wind carried to her the sounds of the Finnigan brothers, Andrew and Kyle, laughing heartily as they welcomed a new guest to enter their pub. Everyone became family here. She looked off the bluffs, watching the fishermen come into the shoals, dragging nets. Children bouncing out into the surf to greet them were so joyous for the day. How good to be here, and happily Moira swayed with the wind, only to be caught in the strong arms of the young, handsome doctor.
"Easy, Mrs. Sweeney," he murmured -- but who was Mrs. Sweeney? She herself was but 16 -- as he half-led, half-carried the wizened old woman with wispy, grey hair carefully back to her daybed, where she'd dream back once again...
22 March, 2006
12 March, 2006
drawing corner
just thought i'd pull out some drawings from a while back... mostly from freshman year of high school, actually. this is before i took art class, as you can probably tell by the quality.
as you may be able to tell, i was on a Lord of the Rings kick...
this first one i drew whilst sitting out during a Knowledge Bowl meet round -- this has got to be the calmest i'v
e ever been during a Knowledge Bowl meet [and i never was this calm during them again]. not my best work, clearly.this next one is from during one of my religion classes. this doesn't mean i wasn't paying attention, of course! i just needed something to do, and decided to draw. this one has nothing to do with Lord of the Rings, but i loved the flow of her dress, so i needed to add stairs and the candle to make it work...
also drawn during some classes was the beginning of the more central picture of arwen. i added the side picture a months later, as i had nothing else upon which to draw at the time. again, not one of my best, especially when it comes to shading [notably, the lack thereof on the face...] but for before art classes, not horrible, per se...
finally, we have probably my best pre-art class effort for this collection. at least, it's the best as far as shading goes. it still doesn't quite look like him, which is irritating, but i can live with it. this was the product of a Saturday afternoon:
02 March, 2006
requiem
11 years ago, to the day. It's even the same day of the week, actually.
...
It was a typical wintry day, although still dark out. Throughout the city, everyone was snuggled under the covers. The wind blew the top snow around a little every now and then. The icicles glistened as they slowly melted. Spring was on its way, though far off on the horizon. The world was quiet. At a time when all the children should be asleep in their beds, we were awakened by the shrill bring-ing of the telephone.
"He stopped breathing!"
It was 1 ante meridiem.
...
I was always his girl. He and I used to read together, go on walks together, do puzzles together, played the same types of games. People sometimes say I remind them of him. Maybe that's just the brain, for he was a very intelligent man. A pastor who served most often as a professor, just like my father now is, he had an incredible memory. He was fascinated with history, and enjoyed languages. Knowledge was his thing. He still knew how to be sneaky, although often that was just a sign of his affection.
He was not a perfect man. He had idiotic quirks, just like everyone else. He never sang hymns at church -- I didn't know if he could -- because he was studying the text and its meaning. He once, famously, flew into a tirade at his Pinochle partner for her choice of play. He was pacing back and forth, fuming, when the scorekeeper informed him quietly, "Dad, you won." He stopped midsentence, whirled around, and said, "What?!" "You won." "Oh," and the matter was dropped. This is remembered fondly.
He was a man of many names. The second [of four thus far] of a family name, he was nicknamed for his light hair initially. In later years, scores of students referred fondly to him as Mudslide -- for the way the skin around his cheeks and mouth sagged. Some students called him, years and years down the road, asking for some sort of assistance, and he always did what he could.
He's the reason, I believe, that I've always been closer to guys than to girls. I'm just more comfortable there, and I believe that's all the time I spent with him when I was young. He was my best friend.
...
I remember his funeral. He, again, was the only one not singing the hymns. His funeral took place on his wife's birthday. [She still has a picture I drew of him when he was sick, those last few weeks. I coloured his skin yellow.] Had he made it to September, there would have been a 50 year wedding anniversary celebration. He died at age 77 years, of pancreatic cancer.
I remember him on this day, every year. The words echo in my ears -- "He stopped breathing!" -- and my grandfather -- my father's father, the only grandfather I have the pleasure of remembering [but that's a story for another time] -- he was gone.
I miss him.
...
It was a typical wintry day, although still dark out. Throughout the city, everyone was snuggled under the covers. The wind blew the top snow around a little every now and then. The icicles glistened as they slowly melted. Spring was on its way, though far off on the horizon. The world was quiet. At a time when all the children should be asleep in their beds, we were awakened by the shrill bring-ing of the telephone.
"He stopped breathing!"
It was 1 ante meridiem.
...
I was always his girl. He and I used to read together, go on walks together, do puzzles together, played the same types of games. People sometimes say I remind them of him. Maybe that's just the brain, for he was a very intelligent man. A pastor who served most often as a professor, just like my father now is, he had an incredible memory. He was fascinated with history, and enjoyed languages. Knowledge was his thing. He still knew how to be sneaky, although often that was just a sign of his affection.
He was not a perfect man. He had idiotic quirks, just like everyone else. He never sang hymns at church -- I didn't know if he could -- because he was studying the text and its meaning. He once, famously, flew into a tirade at his Pinochle partner for her choice of play. He was pacing back and forth, fuming, when the scorekeeper informed him quietly, "Dad, you won." He stopped midsentence, whirled around, and said, "What?!" "You won." "Oh," and the matter was dropped. This is remembered fondly.
He was a man of many names. The second [of four thus far] of a family name, he was nicknamed for his light hair initially. In later years, scores of students referred fondly to him as Mudslide -- for the way the skin around his cheeks and mouth sagged. Some students called him, years and years down the road, asking for some sort of assistance, and he always did what he could.
He's the reason, I believe, that I've always been closer to guys than to girls. I'm just more comfortable there, and I believe that's all the time I spent with him when I was young. He was my best friend.
...
I remember his funeral. He, again, was the only one not singing the hymns. His funeral took place on his wife's birthday. [She still has a picture I drew of him when he was sick, those last few weeks. I coloured his skin yellow.] Had he made it to September, there would have been a 50 year wedding anniversary celebration. He died at age 77 years, of pancreatic cancer.
I remember him on this day, every year. The words echo in my ears -- "He stopped breathing!" -- and my grandfather -- my father's father, the only grandfather I have the pleasure of remembering [but that's a story for another time] -- he was gone.
I miss him.
28 February, 2006
tardy
I was late for an engagement this evening.
An event was intended to start at 9.30. Earlier, I was asked to lend assistance in the physics department, so over to the library I headed, where I met up with the Nebraska possibles, and a couple others. We had a good time, what with chatting and working on problems, but then I realized it was 10.00, and so I started packing up my things. I kept apologizing, again and again, for not being very helpful this evening -- I just wasn't able to be of much assistance. They insisted I was wrong, that I had been of great help, and that "just having [me] there made it so much better."
Not only that, though. These gentlemen felt bad that I was going to be late. They wrote me an excuse slip. It reads, "Please excuse Amelie. She was very useful." All four signed.
An event was intended to start at 9.30. Earlier, I was asked to lend assistance in the physics department, so over to the library I headed, where I met up with the Nebraska possibles, and a couple others. We had a good time, what with chatting and working on problems, but then I realized it was 10.00, and so I started packing up my things. I kept apologizing, again and again, for not being very helpful this evening -- I just wasn't able to be of much assistance. They insisted I was wrong, that I had been of great help, and that "just having [me] there made it so much better."
Not only that, though. These gentlemen felt bad that I was going to be late. They wrote me an excuse slip. It reads, "Please excuse Amelie. She was very useful." All four signed.
27 February, 2006
It's kinda nice
if not a little confusing when certain people catch your eye.
or, you catch them looking at you.
and they're smiling.
and, when asked "what?" they keep smiling.
and say it's nothing.
and, when pressed as to why they keep looking at you like that, they explain:
"i'm just happy to see you."
or, you catch them looking at you.
and they're smiling.
and, when asked "what?" they keep smiling.
and say it's nothing.
and, when pressed as to why they keep looking at you like that, they explain:
"i'm just happy to see you."
21 February, 2006
No Worries...
So, Paige just asked if you should be worried, since I haven't posted in a while.... which amuses me for two reasons:
1, I was in the process of writing this post,
and 2, I was kidnapped this past Friday night.
It's okay, though, I was only kidnapped for about 1.5 hours... Perhaps I should explain?
I received a phone call around 5 or so. It was Nebraska suspect #1. [Neglected to mention I had suspects...] He asked what I was doing that evening. The only thing I had planned on doing was going to the Improv Show [big fan] at 7.30. He then asked if he and Nebraska suspect #2 could come over around 6, and I assented.
6 came and went, as I sat there, doing Sudoku and waiting for them. The phone rang 15 minutes later; they got confused as to where in the building my room was located. Needless to say, they had searched the bottom floor of the other tower thoroughly. As soon as the mistake was corrected, they arrived, and asked me to go for a stroll. I grabbed a coat [it was -12 without factoring in windchill...] and we headed out. Said stroll was apparently to take us to guy #2's car, into which we climbed, and drove -- the LONG way, to warm up -- into another part of town.
Turns out they were taking me to the coffeehouse in town. I had never been there before, and had had almost nothing on the menu before. The local band was setting up, and we stood talking for a little before they informed me that they were treating me to whatever I wanted, as a Thank You for my assistance with physics.
About a month ago, I received no less than 6 distress phone calls from 5 guys working together in the basement of the library in the conference room. They were trying to figure out physics, and yes, they were desperate enough to call 6 times! I helped them for about 3 hours [we all did very well on the assignment, by the way]. They were all being very, very nice, making sure no one offended me, as they anticipated needing my help in the future. [These are also very chivalrous guys; they've held the door for me multiple times, got me things I needed, etc.] I was even added to guy #1 and guy #2 's cell contact lists, #2 listing me with the name "Emergency," and #1 with a typical play on my name [those of you who know my name can probably figure it out].
Since then, I have helped them a number of different times. They also have me keep an eye on the mail they get, so that they'll know when things come. Now, because guy of #2, guy #1 gets a LOT of mail from the offices of various governors around the states -- which is one of a few reasons he's suspect #1.
Anyway, we sat there in the coffeehouse, taking in the setting up of the band, talking together, drinking our strawberry smoothies [in the case of guy #1 and myself] and hot chocolate [guy #2]. We did talk about physics for a little bit -- we had a test that day -- but we also talked about other things, too. No talk of the pin, though!
Suddenly, guy #1 asked me when Improv started. I reminded him, and he said, "...That was three minutes ago." I was shocked! They detained me from Improv! I asked if it was intentional, and they said no at first, but in trying to have me look at the positive side of things, said something about how they'd worked it so I could get in free now -- sounds pretty intentional to me!
We made it back to campus around 7.45 because guy #1 had an interview appointment -- yes, that's right, we made it back for their obligations, but not mine. I hurried over to Improv across campus, only to be informed upon arrival that it was Sold Out! Despite the enjoyable evening thus far, I was ever so slightly bummed -- especially when I was informed afterwards that guy #1 was able to get in during intermission and take the seat of a friend who had to leave! He got to see half the show, and I've been promoting Improv to him and guy #2 for weeks now! Fortunately, I had seen the Improv Club private show on Wednesday, and dress rehearsal on Thursday, and the last show on Saturday, so it's not like I completely missed out...
And thus, I was kidnapped for the first time at college.
1, I was in the process of writing this post,
and 2, I was kidnapped this past Friday night.
It's okay, though, I was only kidnapped for about 1.5 hours... Perhaps I should explain?
I received a phone call around 5 or so. It was Nebraska suspect #1. [Neglected to mention I had suspects...] He asked what I was doing that evening. The only thing I had planned on doing was going to the Improv Show [big fan] at 7.30. He then asked if he and Nebraska suspect #2 could come over around 6, and I assented.
6 came and went, as I sat there, doing Sudoku and waiting for them. The phone rang 15 minutes later; they got confused as to where in the building my room was located. Needless to say, they had searched the bottom floor of the other tower thoroughly. As soon as the mistake was corrected, they arrived, and asked me to go for a stroll. I grabbed a coat [it was -12 without factoring in windchill...] and we headed out. Said stroll was apparently to take us to guy #2's car, into which we climbed, and drove -- the LONG way, to warm up -- into another part of town.
Turns out they were taking me to the coffeehouse in town. I had never been there before, and had had almost nothing on the menu before. The local band was setting up, and we stood talking for a little before they informed me that they were treating me to whatever I wanted, as a Thank You for my assistance with physics.
About a month ago, I received no less than 6 distress phone calls from 5 guys working together in the basement of the library in the conference room. They were trying to figure out physics, and yes, they were desperate enough to call 6 times! I helped them for about 3 hours [we all did very well on the assignment, by the way]. They were all being very, very nice, making sure no one offended me, as they anticipated needing my help in the future. [These are also very chivalrous guys; they've held the door for me multiple times, got me things I needed, etc.] I was even added to guy #1 and guy #2 's cell contact lists, #2 listing me with the name "Emergency," and #1 with a typical play on my name [those of you who know my name can probably figure it out].
Since then, I have helped them a number of different times. They also have me keep an eye on the mail they get, so that they'll know when things come. Now, because guy of #2, guy #1 gets a LOT of mail from the offices of various governors around the states -- which is one of a few reasons he's suspect #1.
Anyway, we sat there in the coffeehouse, taking in the setting up of the band, talking together, drinking our strawberry smoothies [in the case of guy #1 and myself] and hot chocolate [guy #2]. We did talk about physics for a little bit -- we had a test that day -- but we also talked about other things, too. No talk of the pin, though!
Suddenly, guy #1 asked me when Improv started. I reminded him, and he said, "...That was three minutes ago." I was shocked! They detained me from Improv! I asked if it was intentional, and they said no at first, but in trying to have me look at the positive side of things, said something about how they'd worked it so I could get in free now -- sounds pretty intentional to me!
We made it back to campus around 7.45 because guy #1 had an interview appointment -- yes, that's right, we made it back for their obligations, but not mine. I hurried over to Improv across campus, only to be informed upon arrival that it was Sold Out! Despite the enjoyable evening thus far, I was ever so slightly bummed -- especially when I was informed afterwards that guy #1 was able to get in during intermission and take the seat of a friend who had to leave! He got to see half the show, and I've been promoting Improv to him and guy #2 for weeks now! Fortunately, I had seen the Improv Club private show on Wednesday, and dress rehearsal on Thursday, and the last show on Saturday, so it's not like I completely missed out...
And thus, I was kidnapped for the first time at college.
14 February, 2006
Odd..
What guy in his right mind would send, in the on-campus mail, a little paper packet, to me, and in this little packet is a piece of an index card, which says "Did you hear about the nearsighted porcupine? He fell in love with a pincushion" and had a pin of Nebraska attached to it? Does it mean anything?
Inquiring minds need to know.
Update: Did I mention the Nebraska pin says "possibilities ... endless" on it?
Inquiring minds need to know.
Update: Did I mention the Nebraska pin says "possibilities ... endless" on it?
09 February, 2006
This is what happened..
...when the amelie gave blood today. Unlike last semester, when the iron count was just barely too low, I made it this time. So they sent me over to actually donate blood, after the rigmarole of paperwork.
My technician was really quite nice. She marked the vein right away, doublechecked it, and then asked me to look away. I did for a second as she brought the needle close, but then I watched the rest of the time. I don't have a problem watching; I find it fascinating. Before the mathematics major, I was leaning toward medical.
Anyway, my technician stuck the needle in... and immediately couldn't find the carefully marked vein. She tried a few more times, without success, before calling over another worker, named Michael. He apparently takes the hard cases. Well, he tried three times, and couldn't get me. They kept worrying about if I was alright, and I was just fine -- I kept telling them I wasn't worried, and that I had no problem with any of this; that I wasn't in pain and this was kinda amusing. They called over one more lady to try a few times, ask me if I was alright four more times, and then they switched to my left arm.
They set Michael to it right away, and this time he got it. We talked about the last time I gave blood [junior year of high school; I had a presentation that day, and they took it from my left arm -- the writing arm. I was the first one done, got up, drank some lemonade, and went back to class].
Overall, it was a pleasant experience. I filled the bag in just a little over four minutes, let them fill the little extras, got up, drank a cup of water, and left. Now I've just got the battle scars, which will be gone soon enough.
So, be nice to me. I gave blood today -- and got stuck twice for it.
01 February, 2006
February
A dismal, dreary, two fortnights
In which embittered tears are shed
As secret trysts result in fights
And lovers leave cold, empty beds.
One wanders in the clear, dark night
Past old abandoned, secret places
Where with another once clasped tight,
Apparent joy upon their faces.
Yet not long since, one took to flight
And left the other's warm embraces.
The latter searched, but try as might,
The former found in no known places.
A lover scorned, once clad in white,
Now wears the black inside the head.
The joy once felt, now out of sight,
Leaves lone lover, better off dead.
In which embittered tears are shed
As secret trysts result in fights
And lovers leave cold, empty beds.
One wanders in the clear, dark night
Past old abandoned, secret places
Where with another once clasped tight,
Apparent joy upon their faces.
Yet not long since, one took to flight
And left the other's warm embraces.
The latter searched, but try as might,
The former found in no known places.
A lover scorned, once clad in white,
Now wears the black inside the head.
The joy once felt, now out of sight,
Leaves lone lover, better off dead.
26 January, 2006
How do I keep busy?
Aside from the homework, the film viewing, the voracious reading, writing, helping people, playing piano, and doing all things blog, email, and IM -- I also draw. [And some people think I only like Mathematics -- ha!] Sometimes, I draw completely from imagination, creating a character in unique clothing/pose, or doing a new hand drawing. These two drawings I did during class; the girl during Computer Science, and my right hand during my Literature class, when we discussed Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe:
Other times, I do a drawing based on a picture from somewhere out there.Since sometime in December, I've been working, off and on, on a picture still from the movie X-Men. I finished it today. The most frustrating part initially was Ian McKellen's face, as I thought he was the sole favourite actor of the person for whom I was drawing it. Then, I found out Patrick Stewart is his other favourite actor. Patrick Stewart's face, you may or may not agree, is very distinctive, even profile-wise. I'm not completely satisfied with the result, but here it is:
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