Go little book . . .

I was browsing other blogs and came upon the one written by author John Connolly where he suggested that this quote from Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde would make an excellent prayer for authors:


"Go, litel bok . . .
And red whereso thow be, or elles songe,
That thow be understood, God I biseche!"

(which he roughly translates as: Go, little book, and wherever you are read, I ask God only that you be understood.)




Though I don't know the original context of this quote, I think the way Mr. Connolly has interpreted it is very apt.

Because there is nothing quite so exciting as when someone understands what an author's written. When they are on the same page, and explain back to her her own reasoning. When someone else, someone she doesn't know well, who doesn't know her well, gets it. Just, you know, gets it.

My Friends

Does anyone have such friends?

I cannot imagine that anyone has friends like I do. I can't think how it is possible, because if everyone had friends like mine then this world would be populated by none but the smartest, funniest, bravest, most talented, most giving, and most beautiful of people. And I can't sufficiently describe to you how wonderful they are because you would think I was generalizing, that I was trotting out all those general compliments one uses to make someone feel better.

* But by smart I mean studying PhD's smart (whether or not they are actually pursuing said degree).
* And by funny, I mean unique, roll on the floor laughing till your sides hurt, funny.

* By brave I mean not only smiling through great adversity, but singing and dancing and drumming.
* By talented I mean able to create and perform works of art to the most professional and inspirational of standards.
* By giving, I mean choosing to help others as your vocation.
* And by most beautiful - aside from souls, I mean superficially hot, sexy, ladies and gents who just seem to be blessed with all the correct proportions.

I do not exaggerate. Not one tiny bit. And what is the most shocking, the thing that would drive you running into the mountains babbling nonsensical rubbish with a drooble of spittle running out of the side of your mouth, is that my friends, all of my friends, possess each of these qualities in various measures.

A little poem in honour of their magnificence:

I would love to share with you all
how much my friends totally rock
but it just isn't possible as
I'm afraid you'd die of the shock.

Pretty Picture

You may have noticed a slight change in my posts. Yes I am talking about the sudden inclusion of pictures. The reason is a simple one. I have just discovered how to do it. And I like colourful things. I am a woman obsessed, and I vow never shall I post again without an illustration! Ha ha!

A nice thing to read . . .

"The meeting of strangers is funny,
it's odd how it so often ends,
after less than an hour together,
the Nipkin and Zlog were good friends."



I don't know if this is a completely accurate quote from the fabulous picture book Norbert Nipkin (the last line doesn't scan quite right), however I've had it running through my head today like a song and I thought I'd share it with you.

There's just something really nice about it.

And now we dance!

I'm seeing people dance tonight. I don't quite know what sort of show it is really, a friend invited me along. I know it is something oh so contemporary, which can be quite interesting and awe inspiring at times. And I have surprisingly studied quite a bit of dance for someone who never was interested in studying dance. So I can appreciate what I am looking at.

Doesn't mean I'll like it.

Here's the thing. I find things like dance theatre, especially ballet, and its cousin, opera . . . silly. You may think, fair enough, that's your opinion, but let me add this: I love musical theatre and, what's more, don't find it remotely ridiculous to watch.

Now why is that? Musical theatre of the three is most definitely the most absurd:

"Okay so let's pretend this is just a normal play set in a normal time and place, and then, oh hey, let's then suddenly sing a bit. Maybe dance a little?"
"Sure!"
"Hey how about instead of a fight we pirouette?"
"Dude I am so down with that."
"And then once we finish, let's pretend it never happened, k?"
"With you man."

Musical theatre is inately silly.

And I don't know why I therefore like it more than the other two. I was going to argue that musicals are very self aware, that they know they are silly and play up to that, as opposed to opera and ballet that tend to (not all the time, but tend to) take themselves incredibly seriously. But that only works for the big happy musicals like Guys and Dolls, Little Shop of Horrors and, more recently, The Producers. What about Sondheim, I ask you!? WHAT ABOUT SONHEIM!!!??

I have no answer. All I can conclude is that I am a hypocritical, arrogant, close minded, musical theatre fundamentalist.

You know what? I think I'm okay with that.

My Wonderful Temp Job

Today I write to you from an actual temp job (hence fulfilling the initial mandate of this blog), one which I visit frequently and enjoy highly.

The reason I like it is not only are the people very nice (would you believe on my walk to work I lost the heel of my shoe and, upon telling my fellow receptionists of the tragedy, one offered to take it and have it fixed when she went to pick up her shoes at the cobblers?!), and the atmosphere is relaxed, and I know what I'm doing having worked here several times before, but best of all I get to pretend I am a secretary from the 1950's.

I sit with three other receptionists at a large curved desk in the lobby of a large curved business that employs several hundred large curved employees (actually I lie about the latter two as the business is a massive square building surrounded by other massive square buildings, and not a single person employed here looks anything other than a model - very frustrating to be sure). We answer phones and politely put them through to various extensions. And we sign in visitors and book board rooms.

And that's it.

Other than that we gossip and laugh, and wave to employees as they walk through the lobby, and it all feels just so retro.

And you wouldn't have thought it could get any better. But it did. You see, the best thing happened yesterday. As per my request, one of my colleagues leant me ... wait for it ... an emery board! Yes dear readers, believe it or not, your lovely blogger actually sat there, in true receptionist style, one leg crossed over the other, and filed her nails.

And what, my dear invisible readers, could be more fantabulous than that?