C'est la Vie

I am feeling contemplative today. The weather may be affecting my mood. Rain is falling from the skies at a steady rate, and the drops are beginning to collect in puddles. Each new splash creates a ripple, only to be absorbed into an ever increasing pool of water. Drip, drop, ka-plink, ka-plunk. The heavens are crying, and the tears are watering the earth.

I used to hate rainy days. They depressed me, and the absence of the sun saddened my spirits. Today, however, I am pondering rather than despairing. The rain will subside, and the sun will shine again, ever the brighter, and I will drink in it's warmth with pleasure. In the meantime, I will stay dry and observe the shower pour down. It is a cycle of life.

Without days like today, I could not enjoy the beauty of Spring. I am coming to appreciate these wet and dreary days as opportunities to slow down. When I come home tonight, I will fix myself a steaming cup of chai tea, relax in comfy pajamas, and watch March Madness transpire.

Yesterday was absolutely gorgeous. I couldn't resist the urge to take a rambling walk along the downtown canal, and so I deposited my bookbag in my car and headed off on a carefree stroll by the waters. And I soaked in the pleasure of having no cares to tie me down. And it was lovely.

So let the rain fall. Replenish the ground with life, because I can't wait to see the greenness. I will relish in the golden days all the more. For how could I appreciate the sunny days if I didn't endure the dreary, cold, and wet ones? C'est la vie, no? And life, from my perspective, is beautiful. Louange à Dieu!

image source

Blyss Art Direction

NM N-190 Art Direction for midterm.

Inspired

Today, in spite of the rain, I am rejoicing because of the sunshine. I am thrilled that the weather is warm, and that the remains of winter are melting away. I can't help but smile as I see bright green shoots sprouting up in the moist earth, knowing that an array of brilliant colors are soon going to make their appearance in the form of flower blossoms. And I cannot keep from singing the songs inside my head as they play there continuously throughout my day. I know that I am crazy foolish, driving with my windows rolled down and Smoke & Mirrors blaring at full volume, but I've said it before and I'll say it again: I am in love with life.

One of my dear friends wrote that she is searching for Inspiration. She even offered a reward to anyone who could locate it. I too, seek this elusive Inspiration. But I have come to the realization that it is Inspiration that finds me, and I usually happen upon it as if by chance. As much as I may want to, I cannot conjure it up. It is not at my beck and call.

Most of us recognize Inspiration when we see it. I saw inspiration in the film Bright Star. It went largely unnoticed last year, but that does not diminish the beauty of its content. I believe that it enhanced my delight as I watched it, for I felt as though I were viewing a truly worthwhile film that no one had bothered to care about. Bright Star was based on the life John Keats, who was considered to be one of the greatest Romantic poets of his day. In honor of him, and of the Inspiration that he had as a writer, I am sharing a poem that reflects the beauty that I see all around me, but that I could not describe half so well.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink. ~ Endymion, by John Keats

I only meant to put a few lines, but as I kept reading on, I didn't know where to cut off, so I decided to share most all of it here.

Holding Onto Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune - without the words,
And never stops at all...

~ Emily Dickinson

Beautifully penned. Emily Dickinson was a very gifted poet, and she looked at the world with different eyes. This fragment of her poem, Hope, fell upon my ears for the first time this week, and I feel connected to it, somehow. Just words on a page, but they convey meaning. Together, they describe hope. And so this week, I am holding onto hope. My soul is singing, and I pray that the song never stops.

Cockeyed Optimism

Today, the sun is shining. I have been drinking in the big blue sky, and the fluffy canopy of clouds above my head, and I can't stop smiling. Because Spring is just around the corner. My eyes will be searching for crocuses and daffydowndillies, and all the other wonderful signs of life that poke through the earth. Hope will be renewed.

I am looking forward to capturing more stills on my camera. The photos that I have uploaded here were taken last year. Now I am longing to break out my camera and take a ramble to nowhere in particular, with no agenda and no pressing deadlines. It won't be long... Call me a cockeyed optimist, I don't care. Spring will be here soon! Spring is sprung, the grass is ris, I wonder where the flowers is...

Radiant - Attitudes Lab

N190 Attitudes Lab Assignment. In keeping with the narrative, I created an image for the story. I focused on the word radiant, adding in vibrancy and color. The girl represents Blyss, the main character of my story.

Optimistic Pessimist

Aren't oximorans wonderful? Sorts of contradictory statements that have become an accepted part of the English language, and I will admit that I adore them. Take for instance, act naturally. As opposed to just being yourself, I suppose. Or how about sweet sorrow? Though it may sound romantic and immensely poetic, sorrow is not sweet. Perhaps my all time favorite is the optimistic pessimest. I feel connected to this oximoron somehow, especially after today. And the character who best embodies this hilareous contradiction - in my mind - is none other than Puddleglum the Marshwiggle.

I am paying homage to one of my favorite fictional characters in this post. C.S. Lewis introduced him in the book The Silver Chair, and Puddleglum has captured the love of adoring fans ever since. And so, in honor of Clive Staples Lewis and Puddleglum, I will share a few of my favorite Puddleglum-isms.

"Good morning Guests,” he said. “Though when I say good I don’t mean it won't probably turn to rain or it might be snow, or fog, or thunder. You didn’t get any sleep, I daresay."

"…but I’d better not tell you that story. It might lower your spirits, and that’s a thing I never do."

"Very likely, what with enemies, and mountains, and rivers to cross, and losing our way, and next to nothing to eat, and sore feet, we’ll hardly notice the weather."

"The bright side of it is… that if we break our necks getting down the cliff, then we’re safe from being drowned in the river."

Re-reading these has done just the thing. Cheered me up a bit, and brought a smile to my face. Though it won't last for long, I shouldn't wonder...

Talking About Genres & Such

Yet another NM-190 assignment posted onto my blog. I will be analyzing my short story's genre and target audience...

GENRE
FANTASY


Kelsey Lantrip
N190 Spring Semester
February 17, 2010
Target Audience and Attitudes

Gender: Female

Age: 5 - 16

Interests: Fairy Tales, Princesses, True Love, Facebook, Elves, Myths, Friends, Ice Skating, Dresses, Beautiful Things; there are some girls who play sports, such as volleyball, tennis, basketball, soccer, and softball.

Habits: They bite their nails when they are nervous and love bright colors. They have an innocence about them, and are very trusting and naive.

Other things they like to watch or read: Nancy Drew, American Girl series, Disney Princess movies, Tinkerbell, Chick-flicks, Pride and Prejudice, etc.

What they do in their spare time: Play with friends, Cook, Watch movies, Read books, Make up stories, Sing songs, Dance, Dream, Act out make-believe, Hang out at the mall, Have sleepovers.

Things they buy: Dolls, Purses, Make-up, Magazines, Clothes, Shoes, Books, Movie Tickets, Candy, Bubbles, Glitter.

Where they live: With their parents/guardians.

Income level: $0 - 700 (on an aside, their parents make much more. Between $50,000 - 150,000)

Maximum education: Freshman in high school [college undergraduates can be lumped in here too].

Anything else that is relevant: These girls adore fairy tale endings and happily ever after. They love beauty and anything that has to do with magical enchantments.

Blyss - A Short Story. I have gone through and highlighted the adjectives/descriptive words.

It was a SMALL town where nothing exceptional ever happened. Where every day was much the same as the one before. The scenery was dull and drained of color. The people were dull, the food was dull, the buildings were dull – in short, life was dull. No one complained, for no one knew life was to be anything different than MERE existence. They were born, they lived, they worked, and they died. That was all.

And things might have gone on that way forever, were it not for the arrival of Blyss. She was an oddity, to be sure. Born to a YOUNG peasant couple, Blyss was, well, different. Because, unlike the rest, Blyss was infused with color. Her eyes were SAPPHIRE blue, and they twinkled with a merriment of their own. Her hair was not limp and grey, but JET black, and it shone with a HEALTHY sheen. Her skin was RADIANT, somewhat olive in hue, and contrasted STARKLY with the CLAMMY, WAN complexion that all of the other townspeople shared. Blyss’ lips were a PALE pink, and when she laughed, it sounded like music was issuing forth. Blyss was alive with life, filled TO THE BURSTING with hope, joy, and love.

As she grew, Blyss continued to blossom. Wherever Blyss wandered, color followed in her wake. Flowers sprang up in the cracks and crevices, flavor was added to the hitherto BLAND food dishes, and the dreary, drained town began to drink in the life that radiated from Blyss. The townspeople adored her. Like the winter that melts into spring, Blyss’s presence transformed the dull purposeless townsfolk into people filled with hope. No one knew how to explain the phenomenon, and no one questioned the STRANGE occurrences. Rather, they embraced the changes and welcomed Blyss with open arms.

There was, however, one who could not endure Blyss. His name was Bytterly, and he was the landlord who oversaw the townspeople. Bytterly loathed the sight of Blyss, and he detested the brightness that resonated from her presence. He preferred the darkness, and resided in a large estate outside of the town limits. He watched with INCREASING disgust as the MISERABLE town began to come to life. As hope, love, and joy started to permeate the streets, Bytterly’s thoughts grew darker and darker. A DEEP anger arose in him, and he became consumed with wrath. He hated the very mention of Blyss, and resented the life that radiated from her person. Seeing her, and her vivacity, gave him pain.

Blyss became MORE lovely with each passing day. She worked HARD, helping her parents by earning wages by laboring in the fields. Blyss had MANY admirers among the YOUNG men. ‘Love’ was a new feeling, one that had not existed before her arrival. Feelings had been dead, but the RENEWED life that radiated from Blyss changed everything. The boys fell over themselves to impress her, and each of them sought to make her laugh. For her laughter rang out MERRILY, causing those who heard it to pause and smile. Blyss had an INFECTIOUS joy about her, a RADIANT light that shone forth from her person.

Jaedon admired Blyss from a distance. Unlike the other boys, he was reserved. Quiet and contemplative, he found MOST of his thoughts turned to Blyss much of the time, yet he did not OUTWARDLY express his love for her. Often, however, the two of them would work side by side, conversing together like OLD friends. Their attachment grew STRONGER every day. Blyss’s feelings for Jaedon began to deepen into something more, and she looked forward to their meetings. He had eyes only for her, and felt most alive when he was near her. Some have called it ‘true love’. But the truth about love is that it is more than a feeling. It is a commitment built on a STRONG relationship.

As all these things were transpiring, Bytterly sat seething inside his DISMAL mansion. Enveloped in darkness, despising the light, he could not bear to see his LITTLE peasants’ newfound happiness. Too long he had let things be, but enough was enough. It was more than he could endure. Tormented, he determined in his heart that he would feel no more. He would wait for night to fall, and then he would bring an end to the disturbance of his ‘peace’.

He STEALTHILY crept through the town, through the NARROW streets and WINDING alleyways. The fragrance of FRESH blossoms hung in the air, and the aroma sickened him. He cringed, and plunged onward, willing himself to continue. Bytterly stopped outside of a TINY cottage. Reaching into his cloak, he extracted a SMALL bottle. Clutching it TIGHTLY, he opened the door. Ignoring the CREAKING hinges, he pressed into the room, scanning the place until his eyes lighted upon a SLEEPING form. He felt her rather than saw her. Bytterly had never been so close to her, and hate welled up inside of him. He was repulsed by her, and it took all of his will to accomplish his task. DEFTLY, he removed the lid off of the bottle and poured its contents onto Blyss’s blanket. He then held the DAMPENED cloth beneath her nose, forcing her to breathe it in. Satisfied that she was unconscious, he lifted her LIMP body and silently made his way back through the town.

Upon his arrival home, he carried the OBLIVIOUS Blyss to a DISMAL chamber. The life was leaving her. Her color was fading, and her complexion began to turn pallid. Down the stairs, deep into a DANK dungeon, Bytterly deposited Blyss into a WRETCHED, WINDOWLESS room. And there he left her.

The next morning dawned. The townspeople awoke DROWSILY, as though from a dream. In disbelief, they stared at their surroundings in DISMAY. The VIBRANT colors were fading. The flowers had SHRIVELED up during the night, and the blossoms were STRICKEN. The buildings were once more DREARY shells. And the people felt the life drain from their bodies. Their complexions were ashen, their hair returned to grey, and their limbs were heavily laden once more. The lightness and brightness disappeared. In vain did they search for Blyss. She was nowhere to be found. In their hearts, they knew that he had taken her. Hopeless, they accepted their fate. How SWIFTLY they abandoned hope.

All but one. Jaedon’s love for Blyss had developed into much more than a fancy or a feeling. He clung to the hope that she might come to love him as he loved her. Her disappearance was a blow indeed, but rather than to lose hope like the others, Jaedon determined that he would not let Blyss fade. More than anything, he wanted her. He longed for her. In his mind, MERELY existing without Blyss was not living. He would not be satisfied with anything less. While the others were certain that Blyss was dead, Jaedon would not believe the rumor. He could not.

That night, Jaedon set out to find her. No one in the village had ever set foot inside the 'GREAT house’. Armed with his scythe, a sturdy rope, a parcel of food, matches, candles, and a heart swelling with hope, he left the town behind him and advanced toward Bytterly’s estate. He knew no fear, because he did not FULLY comprehend whom he was going up against. Jaedon was young and optimistic.

He had the good sense not to waste his time with the MASSIVE door. As for his plan, he did not have one. He was improvising as he went along. Jaedon crept up to a window and peered inside. He saw UTTER blackness. Sizing up the window, he gave it a shove. It didn’t budge. Picking up a LARGE stone, he took several steps before hurling it WITH ALL HIS MIGHT at the glass. The shattering pane cut through the silence as shards tinkled to the ground. Wasting no time, Jaedon leapt into the house.

Feeling his way through the darkness, with his heart beating LOUDLY inside his chest, he inched along. From the depths of the mansion, echoes began to reverberate off of the walls. A FAINT, SICKLY light made its way towards him. Jaedon headed for a table and QUICKLY took cover.

Bytterly came into view. He surveyed the GAPING hole. Seeing him in the light, Jaedon shuddered. Suddenly, Bytterly turned toward Jaedon’s hiding place. The gleam of the candle illuminated Jaedon’s CROUCHING form, and cast shadows on Bytterly’s HOLLOW face. The landlord was COLD, HAGGARD, and his features were eaten away by hate. His PIERCING eyes stared at Jaedon with something akin to disbelief.

It had never entered Bytterly’s mind to even consider that anyone would attempt to rescue Blyss. He had assumed that the villagers’ feelings were tied into Blyss’s life force, and that removing her from the equation would have eliminated ALL the NEWFOUND sensations. Bytterly had not counted on anyone ACTUALLY retaining feelings after Blyss’s departure. Jaedon’s love for Blyss caught Bytterly off guard.

Without giving it much thought, Jaedon drew out his scythe and lunged toward Bytterly. Placing the blade against the landlord’s throat, he demanded to know where Blyss was being held. His eyes lit with passion, his hand firm and steady, he was not to be reasoned with. Looking into his eyes, Bytterly saw a fire that could not be quenched. He told Jaedon that it was too late to save her. That her life had faded and that she was nothing more than an EMPTY shell. Jaedon’s eyes burned with ferocity as he again demanded that Bytterly disclose her whereabouts. Upon learning where she was, Jaedon rendered Bytterly unconscious and hurtled down the corridors, down to the chamber where she lay.

Blyss was as still as death. ASHEN, STRICKEN, she was hardly recognizable. Tears filled Jaedon’s eyes as he beheld her there. Rushing to her side, he cradled her head in his arms. As his tears dropped onto her face, and SPARKLED LIKE DIAMONDS, FAINT SPOTS of color appeared in her flesh. As he clung to her, he whispered the words that he had never had the courage to say to her. I love you. I love you, Blyss. And I always will.

She moaned in response. FAINTLY, but it was a sign of life. Alert, Jaedon was filled with hope once more. Blyss was reviving, SLOWLY. Trembling now, he began to breathe his breath into her lungs. This time, he gave her life. The BRILLIANT color began to return to her body, though not as vibrant as before. It was as though something had died in her. Jaedon held his breath as her eyes FLUTTERED open. Her glittering, SAPPHIRE eyes locked onto his, holding his gaze. And he knew, then and there, that she would always be his. Because those BEAUTIFUL eyes that SPARKLED and SHONE said it all. I love you, Jaedon. And I always will.

And they lived in UTTER bliss to the end of their days….the end.


*feel free to correct my mistakes - my mind isn't quite sharp right now. I may make more changes to this later...but it is posted at least.

Obituaries...

Another entry for my NM-190 class. Choosing our favorite fictional obituary in regards to our animatic characters.

After having scrolled through the lengthy list of character obituaries, I finally lighted upon one that made me smile. Perhaps humor and death should not be paired together, but in this case I was amused by Brendon's blog post.

Todd Martin Justice died in Indianapolis, Indiana on October 5, 2023 after being found dead in his parked car on Meridian street. The autopsy revealed that his cause of death was exhaustion. Investigators reported that they believed he had spent several hours circling his office building for a parking space, and by the time he finally parked, passed out from exhaustion.

Todd was born on April 17, 1988 in Indianapolis, Indiana. He lived in his hometown his whole life where he attended law school at IUPUI, became Indianapolis’ top law prosecutor, and raised a family. Starting in college, he had always had trouble finding a parking space, no matter what time or area. As a result, many knew him to be the man whose biggest goal was finding the greatest parking spot. The spot he claimed before he died is considered to be the greatest parking spot in all of Indianapolis. It is believed that he died happy since when he was found, he had a smile on his face.

Todd is survived by his wife, Rachel Justice and daughter Violet. He was preceded in death by his parents Bob and Mary Justice.

The public calling will be held at Conkle Funeral Home this Saturday at 10:00 AM. A private funeral procession will be held at Gray’s Memorial soon after. Contributions can be made to the Equal Parking Association.

This was my favorite character obituary. Todd was a normal, simple sort of fellow who found joy in great parking spaces. And he died happy...

Wondering...

Are there actually any new ideas out there, somewhere? Or has every thought been thought before? Are our thoughts original, or not? I want to know. I am again unable to sleep, and so have turned once more to my blog to ponder these questions out loud.

My musings may seem ridiculous in the morning, but for what they are worth, here they are. I am feeling burnt out at the moment. The inspiration tap is running dry - I suppose that it will turn back on later. I have been thinking about what it is that I want from life, what I want to be remembered by, and what kind of legacy I will leave behind me when I am gone. Morbid? Not really. We are mortal - we all die. So I am giving it some thought.

And that is where I will stop. Before I say too much. Maybe you have thought about these things as well, while you are tossing and turning at night, when sleep evades you and your mind refuses to turn off. I think we can all relate, to some degree. Enough said, I'm off to bed. To all, a good night.