Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Something sensible? I think not.

Have you ever seen the movie, 'Meet the Robinsons'? It's a good movie.

And by now, you may get the idea I'm taking a shot at movie reviews. There are lots of good movies to review, and I generally go better if I review the ones I like.

'Meet the Robinsons' has nice, funny, eccentric people in it. That is a good reason to watch it.

It's so classic in itself, the movie; it's simple and the characters are good, the storyline is good, and original. I find it very hard to see original movies. In fact, most of the bad movies I hear about seem to be centered on something else; they're not from the director's mind, or the writer's mind, or so on. I can't say whose mind it would be from, because I don't know much about movies.

It also has hilarious parts. Or at least, funny. I don't know whether you'd find one part as funny as I do, but I thought it was pretty good and funny. However, in all its funniness, it is somewhat serious, and has good points, and morals, and gives you a good big of whatever to think on. There's love and friendship in it, and the characters aren't all hoity-doity lovely and stuff. They like different things, such as, the main character, Lewis, is an inventor. And he's just a kid, and like a kid, he starts out inventing little things, but... it seemed to me that the movie was somehow saying, though things seem to be little and pointless, they're really very big and wide.

I'm not sure how to keep from spoiling the movie, so I am not going to say much more about it. I just think you could try to see it, if you have time, and if you can... and by the way, which I haven't mentioned, it's animated. I'm so used to watching animated movies, I don't even remember it when I tell about them; sort of an afterthought.

I could also say about Wall-E, but I have the feeling that all I want to say is already said.

I loved Wall-E a lot, as well. It explained true friendship, and honesty, and love... and I suppose many other things, too. I don't know how much I can say to get you to go see it (which you can do in theatres now, and it's worth it, methinks...), but I found it a charming movie. One of those lovable Pixar things.

I'm not sure how to touch on other things. It goes out into space, and whenever I get into that sort of part of a book or movie, it makes me feel uneasy and even sad. Alien, different. So I'm trying to white out those feelings while I write about this, and it can be hard. None of you really know about it, but that's why I had a hard time enjoying Star Wars back when we first watched it. I'm so used to it now that I don't mind so much.

Well. Not to scare you away, but there's also a rather darling cockroach, or I think it's a cockroach (and we Bertilson kids have debated it for awhile... I think Gabriel said it was a cockroach, and he is generally trustable), and Wall-E is... great. I don't know. Wall-E being the main character.

Well. I think I shouldn't go into farther detail. Those are two movies I saw this year, Wall-E we saw in Utah, on the way home (sort of), and Meet the Robinsons we saw here in our home, and have listened to it about ... twenty or thirty times since, and I'm not joking. It's very likely it was that many times.

I'm going to search for some sort of poem to browse on, preferably my utterly random ones about cutting pumpkins for Halloween, which I think I wrote last year, in October or September.. or maybe I wrote it in December. *g*

Ok. I've been dawdling, but here are some poems for the meantime, while I search for the pumpkin one. I may not find it because I have an endless maze of files, but I'll work on it.

This was inspired by a mention of whatever's called 'Thou Shalt Laugh'. I think it's a book, but I don't remember. Go look it up if you want to know; I think it's easy enough to find.

What People Tell You To Do

Thou shalt laugh, big and wide;
Thou shalt laugh the whole world dry!
Thou shalt laugh, big and fat,
Thou shalt make an obtuse laugh!
Laugh thine eyes from flowing brook,
Laugh thine eyes from darkest nook!
Thou shalt laugh, big and wide,
Thou shalt laugh the whole world dry!

Thou shalt wail, when thou diest,
Thou shalt wail the great world wet!
Thou shalt wail, when thou liv'st,
Thou shalt wail an acute wail!
Wail thy hair from tight abode,
Wail thy hair to suck the moat!
Thou shalt wail, when thou diest,
Thou shalt wail the whole world wet!

Thou shalt sing, piggishly,
Thou shalt sing like silly thing!
Thou shalt sing, piggish-like,
Thou shalt sing a largish sing!
Sing thine ears to hardest place,
Sing thine ears into its face!
Thou shalt sing, piggishly,
Thou shalt sing like silly thing!

Thou shalt scream, loud and clear,
Thou shalt scream the whole sky's snow!
Thou shalt scream, loud and great,
Thou shalt scream, lik'ning to a bear!
Scream thy mouth so large and wide,
Scream thy mouth so very white!
Thou shalt scream, loud and clear,
Thou shalt scream the whole sky's snow!

Oh, my. More random poems. Here:

Like a lion, he stands above,
His noisy mouth is coming down,
Crashing through the air!
You try to run, but he’s faster,
And down his jaws to the ground.
He growls louder, coming after,
Seeking for your fear,
Then you think you’re in a bush,
And safe from lion’s jaws,
But soon you find a giant frog
Has got you in his mouth!

Oh, I love old random poems. This will probably be a huge long post of it. Have fun.

I wonder how to do this,
Because it is so lame!
I never found out how to write
A silly poem in the night!
But now it’s day and cloudy is,
The skies, falling to the end,
Falling from their crooked place
Up in the sky with such grace.

Swaying, falling, dipping clouds,
But too bad I’m not with them now!
What can you write if it’s today,
A parody or Santa’s sleigh?
I don’t mind to write Latin,
Because you’ve got choice vocab’lary,
But then you get all bored,
And down you sit and roar.

Here's a more melancholy poem. I am pretty sure I wrote it in spring, once the grass came out.

I am old, I have no comfort,
Darkness pulls its shade 'round me.
Singing songs, I pluck my harp,
But darkness envelopes me.
A shadow comes across the stars
And beauty now is lost,
The green of dew-cladden hills gone,
The flowing waves of sea.

In the night, a star will flicker,
Once it flickers, then goes out,
Then the darkness pushes at me,
A darkness hiding the sun.
In the morning, cool with mist,
I raise my head and see the sun,
It rises in the distant east
And ends its roam near night.

Wand'ring, lonely, across the plains,
Life emerges as a song,
The birds let out their morning voice,
And mist arises from the ground.
I wander through the crisp new grass
Coming to a large willow tree,
There I sit down, to have my rest,
For I travel through the night.

I must have written this during Old English or Latin class last year. Insanity, beware.

Old English is not Middle English,
Beware 'tis not Shakespearean!
People get it mixed up, confoozled,
The poor thing, O that alien!
Like Latin 'tis or not at all,
People don't get it once or all,
They fall about upon their swords;
Why does Rette know its call?

I found it. Well, I already told you about it above. It said in the original document that the first line was written so because I was scanning through my art pictures. Delectate (which probably isn't real Latin; I can't remember the word)!

The Pumpkin Song –

November/December art pics are on the show.
Do just kill them, one by one and simply let it go.
I don't care however it's done; just let it get done,
I don't care whether you use a spoon or a latex glove.
Just get it done and go away and put it right outside.
Cut little holes in its sides to indicate its eyes,
And maybe just an imprint showing where is its mouth.
I don't care whether everything goes wrong or right or both;
It doesn't matter 'cause this is just one experiment.
Either shoot two holes at it and make two faces, ha!
It doesn't matter what you do; just let it slip right through.
I might give one little hole through its nose to show...
Or maybe I'll just shout a word to demand it right done.
But anyways, with a gun you shoot out holes for mouth...
And some weird fangs with icicles because it's cold outside.
Taste it up with hot light; a fire or a dove,
Doves are loud and fluttery, and may shine through their eyes.
I wonder if we should put a necklace on its top;
A wired chain or weird hand like Frankenstein's monster.
But anyways, we'll put it out on the steps with sign for formation,
And maybe Great Pumpkin will pass by and bless it one by one.
(Erm, you see, it has fac's two and two fangs, with ice'cles floatin' 'bout,
That sets stage for wondrous shows of binoculars.)
And so the children'll pass by and be scared right to death!
Mwahaha! I'll laugh to death and put on an ugly mask.


Monday, September 29, 2008

A few thoughts.

The start of another week, with a nice day at church. I love my church, and theology.

Today, I got to have the combination of cottage cheese and fruit cocktail. Mm.

I played the piano. Right now, I'm perfecting Burgmuller's Arabesque and one of Clementi's Sonatinas well, and fooling around with Haydn, Bizet, and other composers.

And I think I can hit High C in singing. Whoot.

Now, I'll try to touch on something happy. Embroidery: I have interesting ideas. I'm making myself an outfit for our church's Reformation Party, a skirt and top, and I want to embroider something somewheres when 'tis finished. They were ok, and it was interesting. Now I know just a few ways to change it so that it is better.

Have you ever noticed how apples have character? It's very interesting. I find the nice, crisp ones are rather the kind... well, intelligent ones. And have you ever had the tasty real apple cider? The spicy stuff? I like to fool with it, and IT'S OUT THIS YEAR!! OH YAY FOR FRESH APPLE CIDER! Sometimes it's even Minnesota-made!!! *ceases vigil*

Art class on Thursday. I think I got tired sitting around so long, but it was good. We're doing grid drawings. I'm drawing a picture of three tree swallows sitting on a barbed wire fence, or what ought to be one. Rather cute, and I hope my drawing will turn out. I'm very picky about how things look.

Enough. Let us hope no spiders come to bite me this night. Yes, that is what I worry of last night, ever since I was bitten 'tween the fingers and my eczema exploded angrily against it. :) I like to use weird words.

Sunday, September 28, 2008


I am guaranteed be random in this post.

I'm searching for clothes (patterns, online) to wear every day, and to church... and now I'm looking at costumes at Folkwear.com . They have nice costumes. And a niiice cloak. I want to make myself a thick, scratchy woolen cloak to wear in winter instead of the freezing plastic ones from stores.

And I want to make a wool coat-thing. I think that, if it goes down -20 or so this year (or next), I'll want that. And I am realising I don't like winter so much. Too much cloud, which makes me feel cold. And so I wish I had a large enough blanket in bed to curl up under. :P

I think I'm going to make a shot at a silly Latin rhyme or poem. One of my friends and I were conspiratorialising about writing a nice Latin rhyme book with other Latin students we know. All this was inspired by a Latin rhyme her teacher (and also mine, but that's confusing, because he's not teaching me Latin yet, but will probably be next year) quoted in class.

Something about non, numquam and ne, I think. I can't remember. I don't know all the negative little words in Latin yet.

I went on a rant, sorry. :P

And now I can't think of a Latin word because my brother is humming Ratatouille music beside me... and it's the best (I think) track of the disc, so I want to start... doing something weird like running around the house and singing in Old English or something.

Oh, well. I give up. I can't write Latin-advising poetry now. Won't come. You have to have the Latiny inspiration, the awareness of all the strange participle forms, the forgetting of what letter is the, well, principle letter of the first conjugation, and you forget what... 'est' means. That's when the inspiration comes driving through, and you begin to fluently speak to your siblings in Latin, or compare some Anglo-Saxon words to Latin ones... and lecture on their similarities, and their common ancestors in Indo-European.

I *love* languages. ;) But right now, I'm not doing good at writing in general. I hope you enjoy this drizzle of nouns and verbs and articles, and I'll go wander away and do something pertaining to my character.

*edit* The name of this post doesn't have anything to do with reality.

Friday, September 26, 2008


This has been a busy week of my life. I am going to have art classes every month. It's somewhat intensive; we had the first class this week, yesterday. We are doing grid-drawing. I'm doing a little picture of three tree swallows, Gabriel says they are. He's doing a goldfinch.

I am also doing sewing now. I will be doing a class at a store which, incidentally, is near my church. It's funny that it's so close, because when we go there, I keep thinking we're going to church. Just not the right times of the day. I'm making a skirt and soon a shirt for dancing, and then for the class I'm going to make a rather... mediaeval-style dress, except they didn't make dresses like that in the mediaeval times. I researched that awhile back.

I think that my first weeks on blog may be very ambling. I am an ambling writer. If anyone has read some of my writings, which many of you may have (I don't expect many people who don't know me have seen this quite yet), you will know. Sometimes I'm actually quite witful and sometimes not. I mean, I think of some odd words and use them, straight from my head, and you can tell when I do that. I actually like it myself. A bit of originality, and a bit of fun. I love words, and languages, and histories and cultures. Unless they drive me nuts. I also love to learn about worldviews, but pantheism makes me sick. As does superstition. It really does make me feel nauseas.

I will now drift away.

Videbo te altero tempore! :P

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

A change of mind

I don't know. The name up there is very random, but it might come out to bring sense.

Maybe I should write something philosophical for this post, or something un-philosophical. I could elaborate on translation and reading of Anglo-Saxon poetry and prose, or tell you how I liked Bede's account of the conversion of King Edwin. I read it this morning for English Lit, you see. Indeed, Bede is genius, although my friend gave me a haunting idea on him. Not that I'm surprised by it, but it makes me feel as though I'm sinful to read and like his writings. Not to mention randomly read and translate them in Latin.

I could ask you now if you think I use the word 'random' too much. I think I do, but it's such an interesting word, as is 'odd'. They are both very much attractive to me; they explain me, and things I know and have, so well. There are so many like words, but I won't go and write a dictionary of them, because it might end up being the whole Oxford English Dictionary, or something.

Words are words, and they are so important. Some fail to recognise the very immensity of the language of literature, which is words, and their meanings, and what they can mean. And my sister, who is in this house, is being very odd and pointing at me with a strange expression on the part of her body which is highest from the ground in general, unless she tends to be like Mr. Addams of the Addams Family show. Insane man, he.

I find so many areas of life interesting. I think that to understand me, it would be good to understand that. In fact, it may be necessary to, at least in some form or manner, rather like other things that could serve as metaphors or similes or something odd that my mind can't manage to think up. Nice long sentence there that makes no sense and which you will stumble on, or won't. But I think I would, so you probably will, because I'm stumbling on it now.


:) Thank you. I had two chocolate cookies earlier, very recently, wonders. With milk. Mmmm.

I will try to cease from such vigil in the future, but it helps to know me. I do love chocolate, at least, I like it very much. I don't think I love it; love seems more for God and for people. Something more worthy of love is something with a soul and character, I seem to think. It's just how I am.

Goodness. I'm lecturing on here and to my friend, and I can't seem to separate the two. Just tell me if this is interesting when it is done.

Now, I believe I'll go and find a poem to put on. I don't think I'll have to search long, because if I find the right poem, it sort of... bounces out at me, and I just post it.
Then I write a lecture on it.

Here is a poem I wrote inspired, I believe, by The Seafarer, an Anglo-Saxon poem from the Exeter Book (http://www8.georgetown.edu/departments/medieval/labyrinth/library/oe/exeter.html), and a poem by a friend of mine. And yes, I've mentioned a lot of my friends here. Three or four. :P

Cold eyes, dashing sea,
Breaking through waves,
Nothing in it I can see.
Darkness bitter, tearing waves,
Nothing but the darkest staves
Can clash and break this sea.
Nothing in it I know,
Nothing in it I can tell,
It is darkness all around,
Nothing but the floundering waves
Can I see, swirling around,
Nothing but the darkness grim,
Nothing that I can know.

Lost in waves, struggling,
I try for shore, a little light,
My eyes above the water,
Looking far, seeing light,
The sun on cliffs gleaming gold,
The sun no matter can make old.
There the waves brought me safe,
I came to land and saw the cliffs,
Bright, red-coloured,
Flaming dragon's scales,
Darkness was no more for me.
Darkness passed beyond the east.
Darkness was forever gone.

If you've ever read a translation (or the original language) of The Seafarer, you might see a comparison. Both are at sea, in general, although they have different settings of how you are at sea. I don't know how this one comes into the picture, but in the beginning, the speaker is drowning at sea, or at least in it, to some extent, and is trying to reach shore.

It covers some ideas I've had for stories. The cliffs discussed were a marvelously interesting idea I had. I really liked it. They're cliffs that face the west or something. Could be east, but the sunset seems so much hotter than the sunrise. the sunrise generally looks cool and... golden. Anyways, they're cliffs down to sea, coloured like fire. In my stories, most dragon's known, I think, or more common ones, had fiery-coloured scales. Therefore, there is that connection here. I often see them in my mind when I think or read of them from what I've written, they're actually pretty nice. But blindingly bright, really. I don't know what they're like, but they look beaten, rather like a battened shield, or is the word battened? I like that word because it sounds exactly like the OE... I think, it's quit related. Sounds OE. Love OE. And you know not what OE is. ;)

There, I've ranted. In any case, the cliffs are lovely. I don't think there are cliffs like that anywhere in the world. But it's fantasy.

I'm sorry the post's long. I'm having long thoughts. I should say something sensible, but I've lost all sense because I started staring at the OE Riming Poem int he Exeter Book, linked to above. Love the Exeter Book. I want a nice, fat, leather-bound copy to pour over and read the Anglo-Saxon poems out loud. I love to; Old English is such a beautiful language. I also like to practise my Old English knowledge on speed-translating, or what I call reading, the poems. Because I'm not really translating them. I can read Latin better than Old English because I'm not as rusty on it. I lent my Old English booky thing to a friend of mine across the continent, so I haven't go it now. But she is quite allowed to have it. ;) I'll just be glad when it's back, because... I miss all the words and grammar!

Sense. I will try to succumb to sense.

I think that sometime I should write on definitions and literature.

I think I will now.

If you are at all familiar with foreign literatures, you may know how how words' meanings can be changed to be, well, unmundane. Different than bath meaning a bath. It's hard to explain, but combining words can create meanings far beyond what they may seem. However, some people do not understand what they mean. I'm afraid I pity them. Old English poetry is somewhat broad, and the words they use constantly have senses, or a taste to them.

I can't think of particular words, but the way that words end up deriving into English with different meanings than their Old English derivatives is often, I think, because of the sense of the Old English word. In English, some of our words have almost multiple meanings, rather like multiple personalities, which I like to, insanely, say I have. I can't even think of a particular word to demonstrate, but I think you may get the idea.

There could be an Old English word for deed, let us say, or act, but it has a sense of an evil deed to it, not a good deed, or just a simple neutral deed. Well, I don't really think deeds can be neutral, but think of... the deed of putting away your shoes and then the deed of giving money to some charity. And, often, in OE, that word for deed, if it exists or existed, could come into English as even 'an evil man', or so. It's odd, but that almost illustrates what I mean, but I think that's dreadfully too... strange and far-fetched.

But I have a good one that's been in my mind for weeks now. There is an Old English word, 'wyrd', meaning 'fate, doom'. I believe the sense of this word was very important to the lives of Anglo-Saxons; at least, my English Literature textbook gives that idea, and certainly the Old English poems do as well. You may possibly have guessed that this word, 'wyrd', came into English as 'weird'. You would be correct, as far as I know. I won't say this as a fact because I find I don't trust myself on it, even if my E. Lit. textbook says that, too. I thought so when I first encountered the word in Old English class, however, last schoolyear in my dear ol' OE guide. Well.

Wyrd means doom (I prefer, though doom also comes from Old English... but that is COMPLETELY unimportant here, I must chastise me...), and weird means strange. Fate, or doom, in the Old English poems is looked on as a fateful thing, and is feared, and is, in general, weird. The textbook, and I suppose I should give it credit because it has been mentioned so many times (it is, England in Literature- America reads - classic edition, or something... that's what it says on the front), notes that in Shakespeare's Macbeth, it has the Three Weird Sisters. They symbolise fate, I believe (at least, from what I've gotten so far, and I blame this on the book again), therefore not only being weird. But they certainly are weird.

The word 'wyrd' came into English as 'weird' because fate, or doom, was weird, and the word had the idea as, I think, something that the Anglo-Saxons could in no way foretell.

I should have come to that earlier, but I'm bad at writing essays, so I hope you like this. I've constantly wished to note these things.

Now, I wish to introduce myself a little further. I tend to write my poetry and even writings, or when I'm just writing or speaking to you, somewhat archaically. I am rather an archaic person. I love archaic things, and tend to use words in a very bendable, interesting way. I admit it's interesting; I know it's interesting. I like to write my English like so many things have been written before. Hebrew literature, Greek literature, Anglo-Saxon literature-- they all seem to have it, a strange power of writing, strange senses in words, strange words, and strange ways of writing. That is, to the modern world. I think, to me, it seems normal, because I'm used to it, and very intrigued by it.

I love the Old English word, 'grimm', or at least, like that. It is the derivative of our 'grim', but it is much more intense. It has more of a stern sense, or a darker, grimmer sense, than our grim does. However, I have the big problem of looking at our word as the Old English one, and so I said 'grimmer' there. I'm afraid languages have an influence on me, and it's not easy, and not really hard, to abandon. I hope you understand. 'Stern, fierce, grim.' Think of what the Anglo-Saxons would have imagined when hearing 'grim storm', or their version, probably 'grimm storm'... or so. I can't exactly remember. They probably would have thought of something like a tornado or hurricane, likely, or a gale at sea. Much worse than what we would think of as a grim storm, or a grim day... just a boring, grey day where we sit around as couch potatoes being stewed or smoked in the heat and humidity of summer.

That should sum it for me. Bedtime is soon.

Friday, September 19, 2008

No transliteration...

So. with no transliteration, I will give you all a good poetry-cookout. I have so much of it, and the only place to put it is on the Dearly Classified Writing Club (so-called right now because I feel we'll end up having 40 members soon). Annnd... well, I've got some new and old stuff. So let's have a fun time with poetry. I haven't many short stories, and my stories shan't be posted yet.

So. I'll go search for all the joys of poemhood. And someday, I'm thinking, I should post on Old English. I'm no expert at it, but I know it. You have to rely on Dr. McM for your OEhood. Except, he won't claim expertise either, I don't think. But I'm one of his students, so I'm supposed to be nuts and as, well, smart as a five-year-old.... people say fifth grader, but see, five-year-olds are the ones who depend on their mums for all their knowledge, and they think their parents have infinite knowledge.

This first poem was inspired just now by L.C. Russell of Pontification Ad Nauseam, which I bloglistify to...

Yes Nor No

I cannot say yes, nor no
To any question here,
Oh, how sad life can be
With no right answer?
I would say yes or no
If the time were right,
But they tell me it's not;
I'm bound tight hand and foot.

And I used this to reply to her while talking to her...:

I can't say yes, nor no,
For they say that I can't!
As do you, my friend...
You bind me hand and foot!

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

इफ थिस अप्पार्स इन हिन्दी, आईटी'स नोट माय फौल्ट

Here's an of poemsy. If you don't understand the usage of 'an' there, I'll tell you.... the word 'an' is from the Anglo-Saxon 'án', 'one', and... that generally explains it.

Ta da! --

Now, what a place to go to, my friend!
To the streets of Minn'polis, so drunken, so dead!

Oh, do consider again, if you please;

For this place is not friendly to leaves!
They're sputtered and guzzled and turned to a pulp,
Thrown down the throat with such tyrannical gulp!

The forests are golden and leaves are bright green,
The fields are brown-dark and grasses are green,
The waters are shimm'ring and cloudy and lean.
What does this all mean, what definition?
What can be meant by this old destination?
A place that is contrary to whatever it be,
That certainly does make a little mice wee.

It is a place where there is not a street,
A place where people hardly ever do meet,
A place full of the warnings of woods,
The chastisement giv'n to the one child's 'could'.
'Oh, yes, my child, of course you could, or would!
But, you see, child, 'tisn't could, but 'tis might!'
Such little childrens do not know what's right.

In this forest it is not kept at bay,
The darkness does not creep as long shadows may,
They're pulled back forc'dly by the old trees,
For there are mosses and new ferns to see!
Children who come there do not speak at all,
This is what I am telling you, before fall.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008


I have come, for all of you who care or don't.

For those who come, here are some three random poems I wrote:

It was one day that...
This did happen...
My meatball was covered...
When somebody sneezed.
It rolled off the table,
And under the door,
And then my poor meatball,
Was never no more.


There was an old woman,
Lived in a shoe.
She had twelve children,
Naught but are blue.
All of the windows
And all of the doors
Were busted here'n'there
Because of the floor.


There was an old azure-sky
Covered with stars,
It was so heav'nly,
So very like dye!
But not all the king's men,
Nor the king's horses,
Knew what a star
Was in all their noses!