Bats in the Belfry, Cats in the Attic

source The first time I read One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez, I was mesmerized. I stumbled at first when trying to tell the characters' similar names apart, but each one was so colorful that I found even stumbling through the names , constantly referring back to the family tree in the front of the book, irresistible. Márquez had a way of exploring humanity with his words. He captured love, failures, struggles, beauty, and ugliness, and he wove it into magic. I found out about an event in my area called "100 Readers of Solitude." It was an event at which 100 volunteers would read from Márquez's pages in a tribute to his life and body of work. I decided to go on a day that rained in torrents. One of the readers quoted a passage about rain , saying "The air was so damp that fish could have come in through the doors and swum out the windows, floating through the atmosphere in the rooms." My favorite reading was about Remedios the B...

Gabriel García Márquez, one of the greatest authors of our time, slipped away on 17 of March earlier this week. He was born in Colombia among political turmoil. This was the perfect climate to produce Magical Realist writing, and his writing is something special.  The first time I heard about this author was when a professor of mine recommended my class to read One Hundred Years of Solitude, or Cien Años de Soledad in Spanish. I wasn't sure what this book was about, but I really liked the sound of Magical Realism as a genre. I took my professor's recommendation, put it on my Summer reading list, and I never looked back. It is one of my favorite novels, if not my absolute favorites. I was enthralled and challenged the entire duration of the book. I have plans to read Love in the Time of Cholera, another book by Márquez, this Summer. For anyone who is reading this post, please pledge to read something from Márquez in his memory! I doubt you'll be disappointed.   Sr. Már...

link Just recently, I finished reading I Would Have Loved Him If I Had Not Killed Him by Brazilian author, Edgard Telles Ribeiro. The novel was for a World Literature class in which five contemporary authors visit to host a reading and short lecture.With a title like the one it has, I expected the book could have gone one of two ways: reminiscent of a soap opera, or an interesting read. What I didn't expect was the work of art that unfolded before me.  The book is set mostly in Brazil, and it is narrated by a failed film-maker and an antiques dealer. The film-maker, Fernando, bumps into an old friend, Andrea (the antiques dealer). They begin to talk, when Fernando asks about why she decided to settle down and open an antiques shop in Brazil's capital city. Andrea explained by telling him the story of her recently deceased great-aunt. The great-aunt, Guilhermina, was married off at the age of 14. She was given by her parents to a 66-year-old man and raped on her wedding ni...

My poem, "That Old Moaning Tree," was recently published in my university's undergraduate literary magazine, Underground . I enjoy writing poetry. I write it for fun whenever I feel a whim, but I do not consider myself a "serious poet," if there were ever such a thing. I thought I'd post the poem here if any of you were curious. It's a bit of a dark poem, but my intention was to make it slightly humorous and slightly ironic. I felt inspired after reading  "Cherry White" by Dorothy Parker. That Old Moaning Tree More than once I wondered how it would be To tie myself in an old moaning tree Where the dry leaves would shush And the birds wouldn’t sing Because they’d be too busy Picking the eyes out of me. More than once I wondered how it would be To fly off a bridge through terrain serene Where the wind would gush And my eyes would water Right before I hit the ground, Where I’d become Earth’s slaughter. Someti...

"I have endeavoured in this Ghostly little book, to raise the Ghost of an Idea, which shall not put my readers out of humour with themselves, with each other, with the season, or with me. May it haunt their houses pleasantly, and no one wish to lay it. Their faithful Friend and Servant, C. D."  - Charles Dickens, December, 1843 source I've just finished reading A Christmas Carol from Charles Dickens for the first time. I thought it'd be appropriate for the holiday season. Growing up, I watched The Muppet's rendition of this novella at least once a year, and I confess that, at certain points, I envisioned The Muppet Christmas Carol as I read. source Even if you haven't read this story, you're probably familiar with the phrase, "Bah! Humbug!" (A humbug is a fraud or something nonsensical.) You've most likely heard the name Scrooge, because it's so closely associated with tight-fistedness and an aversion to Christmas. Ho...

I just had my 20th birthday on November 9. I joked that I'd have to start acting serious like a "real adult" now. Really, though, I don't believe one ever truly feels like an adult. I have this theory that everyone's just pretending (and some are better at it than others). I don't feel any older, which is no surprise, but things have changed so much since my last birthday. This year, I hope to make some changes of my own. I go through the same routine, and I don't want to sink into the "everydayness" of life. To combat this, I'd love to start volunteering. There's a few options. I have been wanting to start teaching adult literacy, reading for children, and visiting nursing homes. I really want to do something meaningful. In other news, I have a poem that's going to be published soon in my school's undergraduate literary journal. I'll be sure to post more about that when the issue comes out. I've also written another sto...

Bedford/St. Martin's For those of you who are not familiar with Flannery O'Connor or her work, let me take a moment to share a little. Flannery O'Connor was a writer born in Savannah, Georgia in the Twenties. She lived most of her life in a town called Milledgeville, also in Georgia. O'Connor's work is categorized as Southern Gothicism . Her wit is legendary, and her stories are characterized by their rural southern settings, grotesque characters, and the strong influence of her Catholicism (rare in the South at the time) on her work. To those of you who have not read anything from this lady, do (and comment with your opinions)! They are accessible online. Here is a link to "The Life You Save May Be Your Own," which is the first short story I read from her. Monday evening after class, my boyfriend and I attended a brilliant lecture at Emory University-- an opportunity  that I hope comes around again. The lecturer was a man named Dr. Ralph Wood. He a...

My Summer break is nearly over. With school starting back at the end of the month, I'm trying to finish the last couple of books of my summer reading list. On my list, I've read On The Road, The Bell Jar , The Moviegoer , The Old Man , The Turn of The Screw , and One Hundred Years of Solitude (almost finished). My last two books are The Seven Storey Mountain and Tropic of Cancer . For me, fiction is not really an escape. It's a way for me to dive into different places and experience what is not possible for me at the time. There are lessons to be learned and insight to be gained, and it awaits inside the pages of books.  Here are the lessons I've gleaned from my Summer reading books: On The Road by Jack Kerouac taught me that filling one's life with all the experiences youth has to offer does not make one's life full.  The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath made it clear that negativity doesn't solve any problems, and that it's okay to want so...

Toby and Goblins from Labyrinth While thumbing through a copy of Fate Magazine, an article about goblins caught my eye. Goblins are legendary creatures that come in many shapes and sizes. Generally, Goblins are said to be small and ugly, noisy, and have a bit of a mean streak. They are known for their compulsive cleaning, mischievousness, greediness, and occasional baby-stealing (Labyrinth) The Gringott's Goblin Christina Rosetti wrote a poem called, "Goblin Market" Here's an excerpt: Laugh’d every goblin When they spied her peeping: Came towards her hobbling, Flying, running, leaping, Puffing and blowing, Chuckling, clapping, crowing, Clucking and gobbling, Mopping and mowing, Full of airs and graces, Pulling wry faces, Demure grimaces, Cat-like and rat-like, Ratel- and wombat-like, Snail-paced in a hurry, Parrot-voiced and whistler, Helter skelter, hurry skurry, Chattering like magpies, Fluttering like pigeons, Glidin...

Established in 1823, Decatur Cemetery is older than the city of Atlanta itself.  Through the iron gates sprawled pathways lined by stone walls and oak trees. There were monuments of varying sizes and shapes, some worn and peppered with lichen.   Within the cemetery, there are a few mysterious letterbox locations. Letterboxing is a past time similar to geocaching. Participants use riddles to find hidden boxes. Inside the box is a pad of paper that is stamped and dated by the finders. My boyfriend and I trekked through the cemetery to find the hidden boxes. We managed to find one of the three, which was soaked with water. Although we didn't find all, our cemetery exploration proved successful. soaked letterbox, hiding under the tree trunk. Thomas Holley Chivers Upon research, I found that Decatur Cemetery is home to a man named Thomas Holley Chivers. Chivers was a Medical Doctor who became a poet, achieving mild fame at the time. He is famous for his fri...

It's very late, and the  moon is radiant and high in the sky. You're walking back home on a dirt path beside the desolate road. The air is biting-cold. You sniffle, eyes darting back and forth, and your feet take you in through the tall wrought iron cemetery gates. You've used the graveyard as a cut-through before, but you're still feeling uneasy. There's a disturbance, and you can sense it in your gurgling gut. Your suspicion grows as you approach a dirt mound above a grave. A shadow glides past in your peripheral vision. You walk faster and faster, but trip on a patch of pebbles. Stumbling, looking around, you see what looks like a pile of a person. Then the smell...it hit like a wall of sticky decay. You sprint as fast as your feet can take you. Gliding through the air, refusing to look back, there is one thought rattling your brain: Ghoul. source The legend of the ghoul is one that fascinates me thoroughly. Many people confuse ghouls with zombies, but ...

Source Southern Gothicism is a Literary Genre I hold close to my heart, since I myself live in Georgia. In this domain, the american south is darkly romantic, tragic, dramatic, and anything you'd suspect from  typical Gothic Literature. It's very similar to Gothic literature in the fact that they both incorporate grotesque characters, the supernatural, isolation, lots of irony, and social criticisms. Southern Gothic works often  criticize and reveal issues like racism and hypocrisy, which were all, and still are, prevalent here (and pretty much anywhere else, really). source Some Southern Gothic Authors: Flannery O'Connor: source Flannery O'Connor is definitely one of my all time favorite authors. She was born in Savannah in 1925 to a Catholic family. At that time, Catholics were not common in this region. Her religion has a big influence in her writing in that she points out the religious hypocrisy of our region. She also She is a very skilled write...

I'm taking an awesome Creative Writing class right now called "Good Hemingway, Bad Hemingway." If you didn't guess, the class is about Ernest Hemingway. We've been reading "In Our Time," but the entire class isn't just about Hemingway specifically - It's about developing creative writing skills.  We've been given some quick little prompts in class to help us with this undertaking. The professor gave us a sentence that tells something. Our assignment was to take that sentence and show what's happening through our writing. For Example, Our first prompt was "The old man was tired." We are supposed to describe a scene (about a paragraph in length) without using the phrase in our text. There was a five minute time limit as well. It's a good exercise for any aspiring writer out there. Good writers are able to show the audience what is happening rather than telling them (and without using many...or any adverbs). If any of ...

Since this month is so busy, it seemed like a good idea to have a little update about what's going on in my life lately. On the twentieth of August, I will officially be a college student at Georgia State University. I am very excited and a little nervous. On top of that, I have really exciting news: I am going to be working with Georgia State's English Department, specifically with the Writing Studio. This is a great opportunity for me to meet people who work in the field and are willing to give me advice. This job is going to put money towards my tuition as well. All I have to do is fill out some more paperwork, and speak with a couple of people about my  payroll and job responsibilities. My brother is also going to be moving to Thailand in The Fall (probably October). He's going to be an English teacher for a year or two. I'm very happy for him. I'm also saving up my money to buy a plane ticket so I can trek over there myself. Yay for 14 hour plane rides! Asi...

This Ladies in Black theme post is "inspired by a song."  I was having a little trouble at first, I have to admit. I was combing through some old files, and I remembered that I once wrote a little poem inspired by the song, "Spirit" by Bauhaus. I love the song, and I had it stuck in my head for ages until I came up with my own poem that has a similar rhythm to the song. Now normally I don't share my writing online, but this is an exception. It was inspired sleep paralysis that I used to endure often. I find it to be great fuel for writing. Here you go. It's called 'My Silver Noose' It's not my best work, but I like it. I hope whoever reads this finds it enjoyable as well.  My Silver Noose Will tonight I be a puppet Hanging from a thread With dead eyes thrashing violently, My vessel weighted lead? Will you be with me, Plain for me to see? My dry eyes struck with terror From a shadow over me. You’re choking ou...