And how fast can I go blabbering in 5 minutes about what's happening lately. It's 12:43 am and I'll stop at 12:48 am and see how far I can get.
We've had a couple of days off now, we went shopping! I almost forgot the joy of shopping because it's been so long since I went on a shopping spree. I got a really beautiful dress and Amazing shoes. Like seriously! And of course I got some books. I have no idea how can I stop buying books till I can catch up with the stack that's waiting for me. The good thing though is that it only gets more excited about reading, which is a bad thing too because I seriously can't afford to read that much nowadays, I need to go back do some serious studying for the 2nd semester but I don't feel like it much, hopefully after this weekend it'll get better and I can realize the seriousness of the situation and how far behind we are to get going.
And it's just been mom's day and all I did for my mom is wish her a happy Mother's Day. At our family I guess it's hard showing a lot of emotions (Edit 1: on second thought, it's probably just me, cuz my parents have been showing their love and affection this year a lot, and my sisters are great at that too but I guess I'm thinking we should be like those who say "I love you" with every hello and goodbye. It's just not like that) and I know that's not a good excuse for not at least telling her how much I loved her, but now having read someone saying how wonderful their mom is it just makes me feel guilty at how I can't seem to show my appreciation for having my mom around and for her being just who she is.
Should I go on? Well, it's just a touchy subject really, and try as I may I can't even put what I feel about it in words which is perhaps why I hardly, if ever, address it. I used to feel sorry for those who can't actually express their feelings and show how much they loved their family or such, but I'm realizing more and more that it also doesn't say much at the end of the day, it's mostly about how you treat them and the things you do for them. Right?
*Post title is irrelevant.
PS: Do ignore the mistakes that are made is this post, whether grammatical, or whatever. My English isn't exactly at its peak at the moment. Don't hate.
Edit 2: Gosh, this final year at school actually got to me and I let it, I've become less of an optimist, and I hate that. Life is beautiful even though I have tonnes of things to do for tomorrow and I'm wasting time!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Mrs. Dalloway is no usual novel. It gets you into the head of people associated with Mrs. Dalloway's upcoming party. All takes place in one day, and it's just a captivating read. Woolf takes you deep into her characters, and she's brilliant with the way she deals with them, and gets you into their inner thoughts. It's a really good book.
I'm definitely a fan of Virgina Woolf, this is my second book for her, my first was Orlando. The way she writes is what got me into the book. It's just so good! You may love Woolf, and you may hate her works but you'll have to admit at the end of the day that she writes so well and I find myself amazed at how often I can relate with what she's writing about.
Here are a few quotes I found myself pondering upon in the novel:
"Did it matter then, she asked herself, walking towards Bond Street, did it matter that she must inevitably cease completely; all this must go on without her; did she resent it; or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely? but that somehow in the streets of London, on the ebb and flow of things, here, there, she survived, Peter survived, lived in each other, she being part, she was positive, of the trees at home; of the house there, ugly, rambling all to bits and pieces as it was; part of people she had never met; being laid out like a mist between the people she knew best, who lifted her on their branches as she had seen the trees lift the mist, but it spread ever so far, her life, herself. But what was she dreaming as she looked into Hatchards' shop window?"
Pages 11, 12
"Oddly enough, she was one of the most thorough-going sceptics he had ever met... possibly she said to herself, as we are doomed race, chained to a sinking ship (her favorite reading as a girl was Huxley and Tyndall, and they were fond of these nautical metaphors), as the whole thing is a bad joke, let us, at any rate, do our part; mitigate the sufferings of our fellow-prisoners (Huxley again); decorate the dungeon with flowers and air-cushions; be as decent as we possibly can."
Pages 86, 87 “Just now!” She said that with her Italian accent. She said that herself. He shaded his eyes so that he might see only a little of her face at a time, first the chin, then the nose, then the forehead, in case it were deformed, or had some terrible mark on it. But no, there she was, perfectly natural, sewing, with the pursed lips that women have, the set, the melancholy expression, when sewing. But there was nothing terrible about it, he assured himself, looking a second time, a third time at her face, her hands, for what was frightening or disgusting in her as she sat there in broad daylight, sewing?"
Page 157 (This, weird as it may sound, is my favourite quote! How did she manage to capture that thought so well. I do that sometimes when I look at myself in the mirror, afraid I might have changed drastically overnight.)
“Then (she had felt it only this morning) there was the terror; the overwhelming incapacity, one’s parents giving it into one’s hands, this life, to be lived to the end, to be walked with serenely; there was in the depths of her heart an awful fear."