I'm super late, but better late than never, right? But because I am so late you're gettin' point form:
-family rec room is a little better than half way painted. Yay!
- I am, surprisingly, lovin' the above mentioned paint (I was worried, Mr. Sprite picked the colours and I wasn't overly enthused by them). Whew!
- the a/c guy came into work today to look around, he'll be back next week to install a/c. Yay times two!
- I am going to be on vacation next week! Super Yay! The countdown is on, I have two full working days and then I am off for a week! We are going to travel around the lovely Nova Scotia and see what we can see. We've been here couple of years but we've yet to experience all that N.S. has to offer. We figured we better get crackin' before the military decides the hubby is needed elsewhere (Germany would be fantastic. Not likely, but a girl can dream).
Anyhoo, that's the breakdown of my happy thoughts today. Thanks go out to Lainey again for inspiring the rest of us to quit our bitchin' for the day!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Where does the time go?
Hi! Tomorrow is No Whining Wednesday, so I thought I'd pay a quick visit to purge my weekly complaints. First and foremost, last NWW was a doosie (sp? it's not in spell check!) and I hope this week is better. Already I've guaranteed it's going to be trying. The hubby decided he wanted to paint tonight, which of course is spilling into tomorrow and seeing as he's from Mars (or more likely a further planet, we've yet to figure out where, because he's unlike anything anyone has ever seen before) and I'm from Venus, we disagree on just about everything. Whenever we try to do something like this, we both have entirely different ideas on how to go about it and neither one of us is very adept at compromising most of the time, so inevitably we end up arguing. Neither of us is rational when we're angry. Well, you can see where this going. I'm determined though. Tonight I will let it all go, tomorrow I will be a clean slate!
1) We started the painting process, were actually having a pretty good time lovingly nagging one another, even had a drink. Bam! I have a migraine. It isn't bad yet, but I put my drink down, declared I wasn't going any further tonight and logged on here. I'm going to finish up here and hit the hay.
2) I sent my resume to two places today. Both are government positions but in different departments. I hate, with a green galvanized passion, writing cover letters and tweaking my resume so that it looks like I was made to do the position I am applying for. Hate it. The two of them took me better than an hour to get just right -no, I am not a perfectionist, why do you ask?-and I was wound tighter than a bloody spring when I was done. (the good news here is that I applied for two jobs though).
3) I have mentioned that I work in the seventh circle of hell presently, right? Well, I do. Normally though, the temperature inside the office doesn't reflect the level of hell I work in, but the past two days.....Oh Sweet Jesus, it has been hot! 29 and 30 degrees with 85% and 65% humidity (that's 84 and 86 degrees Fahrenheit for my American friends). Makes for a nice day at the beach. The office? Not so much.
This one isn't a complaint. My daughter is fantastic. While her Father and I were taping the family room in preparation for the paint, we were in all kinds of ridiculous positions, stretching over furniture, trying to get the hard to reach places (I would have moved all the furniture first) and she gets her camera. I told her to go right ahead and take a picture if she wanted, she could even post it to Facebook if she was prepared for my retaliation with 13 years of blackmail photos I have been saving up. I told her she would have to ask herself one question "Do you feel lucky punk?" (Of course I did). She didn't take any pictures, but then logs on to Facebook and updates her status. What does it say, you ask? "I was watching my parents getting ready to paint, was going to take pictures of it, but Mom might murder me in the face." Awesome, right?
Edit-It's Wednesday morning and I've just come back to check things out, only to discover this thing was rife with errors. I apologize for my lack of attention. And I will refrain from blogging with a migraine. It's better for everyone that way!
1) We started the painting process, were actually having a pretty good time lovingly nagging one another, even had a drink. Bam! I have a migraine. It isn't bad yet, but I put my drink down, declared I wasn't going any further tonight and logged on here. I'm going to finish up here and hit the hay.
2) I sent my resume to two places today. Both are government positions but in different departments. I hate, with a green galvanized passion, writing cover letters and tweaking my resume so that it looks like I was made to do the position I am applying for. Hate it. The two of them took me better than an hour to get just right -no, I am not a perfectionist, why do you ask?-and I was wound tighter than a bloody spring when I was done. (the good news here is that I applied for two jobs though).
3) I have mentioned that I work in the seventh circle of hell presently, right? Well, I do. Normally though, the temperature inside the office doesn't reflect the level of hell I work in, but the past two days.....Oh Sweet Jesus, it has been hot! 29 and 30 degrees with 85% and 65% humidity (that's 84 and 86 degrees Fahrenheit for my American friends). Makes for a nice day at the beach. The office? Not so much.
This one isn't a complaint. My daughter is fantastic. While her Father and I were taping the family room in preparation for the paint, we were in all kinds of ridiculous positions, stretching over furniture, trying to get the hard to reach places (I would have moved all the furniture first) and she gets her camera. I told her to go right ahead and take a picture if she wanted, she could even post it to Facebook if she was prepared for my retaliation with 13 years of blackmail photos I have been saving up. I told her she would have to ask herself one question "Do you feel lucky punk?" (Of course I did). She didn't take any pictures, but then logs on to Facebook and updates her status. What does it say, you ask? "I was watching my parents getting ready to paint, was going to take pictures of it, but Mom might murder me in the face." Awesome, right?
Edit-It's Wednesday morning and I've just come back to check things out, only to discover this thing was rife with errors. I apologize for my lack of attention. And I will refrain from blogging with a migraine. It's better for everyone that way!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Fundy Fun
As I have mentioned before we live in Nova Scotia. Today we went to visit The Bay of Fundy. The Bay of Fundy is famous for being home to the worlds highest tides. In little more than a 12 hour period the tides in The Bay of Fundy will rise and fall approximately 17 metres or 56 feet (according to wiki). It is this nifty little fact that has secured The Bay of Fundy a spot on the short list of nominees for the New Seven Wonders of the World. You can get yourself into all kinds of trouble related to the tides. When the tide is coming in, you can ride the resulting tidal bore in various locations. Or if the tide is already gone when you visit, why not go mud sliding? You can also go whale watching, kayaking, hiking...ok, so I'm started to sound like a tourist guide, I'll stop. The few times that I have witnessed it, just watching the tide go out or come in is a thing of beauty. It's a pretty phenomenal thing to see. NASA has some pretty cool pictures. Here is high tide and low tide from space.
Okay so NASA's pictures are neater, but hey, I learned to use Paint.
Neat, eh? Well, I have pictures too, NASA!
Note the arrow I took the time to add so that it is easier for you to see the height of the water at the time of this picture (you're welcome). And just an hour later;
Okay so NASA's pictures are neater, but hey, I learned to use Paint.
The kids had wanted to go in the cave you can see to the right of the arrow. When we first got there we would have been able to get in, but getting out again was questionable. So I was a mean Momma and said no. I have promised we'll go back again earlier in the day next time so that they can go spelunking. They got soaked as a consolation. My car is going to stink of seaweed and saltwater for the rest of the summer.
Oh, my car! My hubby suggested we take his car. This being one of the first hot, sunny days we've had yet this summer and me being a wimp, I said no, let's take my car, because it has air conditioning. He asked me was I sure, and tried to remind me of the condition of the road we would have to travel. I said "bah! It wasn't that bad" He didn't argue. We took my car. I got my car in March. It's an '09 Kia Spectra5. It isn't a Porsche or anything, but it's mine and it's peppy and I drove a mini-van before it, so it sort of is like a Porsche to me. The route to the bay took us over a mountain on a single lane dirt road. It has been a fairly rainy summer here. The road is not one the town maintains regularly, so the runnels that had formed were damned near big enough to swallow my car. The surface is closer to full on rocks as opposed to crushed gravel. My tires are low profile. The forest lines either side of the road has nearly swallowed the road. I will leave the condition of my paint job to your imagination. Sheesh, I'm an ass sometimes.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Smile! You're on Candid Camera!
I agreed to participate in No Whining Wednesdays with a fellow blogger, Lainey Bobainey , as I mentioned yesterday. I tried to purge myself of all negative thoughts last night by blogging. Much to my surprise, I had nothing negative to say. As fantastic as it is to have no complaints, it did not bode well for my No Whining commitment. It is rare for there to be two complaintless days in succession. I don't know what that says about me and my life and I don't really care, you aren't Freud and I ain't here to be judged. The fact remains. It is out of the norm. Well, boys and girls, Wednesday arrived and true to form, today was intent on testing the strength of my resolve. Walk with me, talk with me......
I woke up this morning much like every other morning. Aware that today was the day I wasn't going to complain, I put on my happy face, determined to succeed (I needed a little motivation, I have been too "Eeyore" for my own good here of late). For breakfast I chose my favourite cereal, Cranberries and Flakes (I don't know what kind of flakes, but they are nummy). About mid way though my bowl of cereal, I encountered something a little crunchier than normal. Hoping beyond hope it was perhaps a cranberry that skipped past dried, right on to crystallized -stay with me here- and not something nasty (like one of the ants that seems to have taken up permanent residence in my kitchen) but reluctant to actually spit it out and check it out. 'Cause if it had been the latter I would have tossed my cookies. Sometimes what you don't know, won't hurt you. I chewed the required amount and swallowed, washed it down with some coffee for good measure. The very next bite a dried cranberry managed to adhere itself to the inside of a number of my top molars, using my tongue to dislodge said cranberry I discovered one of the teeth involved was a little more jagged than usual, a little sharper than usual, a little less there than fucking usual! That crunchier crunch in my morning cereal was a filling! So I ran to the bathroom for a closer inspection and sure enough, my fucking filling was gone!
Okay, so last November I developed a bit of a tooth ache and after a visit to my regular dentist, I was informed I needed a root canal. Fine. Two trips to the specialist and one more trip to my regular dentist for a filling that my regular dentist informed me was only temporary because "that tooth is going to need a crown". Jesus wept! I could have had the darned thing pulled for four hundred bucks! At that point I had spent $1100 for the root canal and another couple of hundred for the regular visits. Damned tooth. Damned me for not taking better care of the damned tooth! *I am not complaining, I'm story telling, stick around.* So you can understand my hesitation to fork out yet more cash to have a crown put on the tooth.
I called the dentist's office expecting to beg and plead to get an appointment to fix my tooth today, they had an appointment right away! Woo Hoo! I finished my morning routine (ironically, I had to brush my teeth!) and prepared to leave. While I was brushing my teeth, Heaven decided to turn on the water works. Fantastic! These pictures were taken with my phone so the quality is not spectacular, but you get the point, this is what I drove to the dentist in.
Beauties, huh? Small bit of a torrential downpour, but hey! My flower garden is going to be luscious!
Upon arriving at the dentist the rain began to fall even harder and the 30 or so feet it was from my car to the door resulted in an thorough drenching. The dentist promptly began to admonish me for not coming in sooner. This is not a point that needed to be further driven home, in my opinion, but I figured I deserved it, so I accepted her scolding with as little contempt as possible, choosing to focus on how quickly I was given an appointment. Once the dentist decided I had learned my lesson she had a look at my tooth. Turns out the filling I was given after the root canal is still firmly in place (ha! temporary, my ass!), it was my tooth that fell out! Not all of it mind you, but a good portion of it. There is apparently enough left of it to affix the much needed crown to. Yay! Oh and when the tooth finally has it's elusive crown, I will have a tooth worth a little better than two grand. One tooth. I'm having that shit insured. Surely there is a company that wants to protect my pricey tooth from further damage or even theft!
I had been poked, prodded, drilled and filled when the hygienist came in to inform the dentist that she has had an opening this afternoon and could take another appointment. The dentist mentioned to me that I am due for a cleaning and offered me the slot. I figured work was a write off; the roof of my mouth felt like a pin cushion (still does) and my jaw felt like it was held open with a car jack for a cruel amount of time (still does), so why not suffer more abuse at the hands of my dentist! Sure! I tested my luck and asked if I could bring my kids in for a little torture *cough* cleaning as well. Why, of course! Score! It's a family outing, sans patriarch, outing nonetheless.
To prepare for the dentist, I had the kids brush their teeth real good, and then floss. Because you know, that's gonna make up for all the lazy dental hygiene since the last dentist visit. I was helping my son brush his teeth when he tells me he's going to sneeze. I told him to spit first (in an effort to avoid a toothpaste-y spray all over everyone). He hoists himself up on the vanity, he's short, and spits. Just in time, too. A sneeze immediately followed the spit; used toothpaste shower averted! Sadly, there wasn't enough time for him to avoid the hazards a sneeze and the bathroom sink present and he whacked his forehead off the faucet. I wish I could say I was a better mother. I wish I could say that I grabbed him as quickly as I could to kiss his boo boo better. I am not and I did not. What the hell did I do, you ask? I laughed. I laughed so hard I could barely breathe let alone ask him if he was okay. I would like to think if he were crying I wouldn't have laughed, at least not as hard as I did, but he wasn't and I was beyond control. I should add that his sister did not help the situation, she too laughed like she had never seen anything so funny. Once I regained my composure, I apologized and asked if he was OK. He was, obviously, but I'm sure it helps to know your mother cares enough to ask about your well being when she hasn't done such a stellar job of showing it. For the first time in my life, I wished there was a camera in the bathroom today, so I could share with you the unintentional comedy that occurred. Perhaps then you would understand why the loss of my Mother of The Year nomination was completely out of my hands. I was a slave to hilarious circumstance.
I could go on. My entire day followed a very specific set of rules, it would seem. Every situation seemed designed to break my resolve. The Whirling Maelstrom of Whining, as Spender so eloquently put it. I am happy to report; I didn't lose my cool, I didn't break down. I forced my self to find the good in each situation today and did. You know what? I think it might get easier too, next time it may not be so hard to be optimistic. Could I become an optimist? Will my pessimistic ways be a thing of the past? I am guardedly optimistic.
I woke up this morning much like every other morning. Aware that today was the day I wasn't going to complain, I put on my happy face, determined to succeed (I needed a little motivation, I have been too "Eeyore" for my own good here of late). For breakfast I chose my favourite cereal, Cranberries and Flakes (I don't know what kind of flakes, but they are nummy). About mid way though my bowl of cereal, I encountered something a little crunchier than normal. Hoping beyond hope it was perhaps a cranberry that skipped past dried, right on to crystallized -stay with me here- and not something nasty (like one of the ants that seems to have taken up permanent residence in my kitchen) but reluctant to actually spit it out and check it out. 'Cause if it had been the latter I would have tossed my cookies. Sometimes what you don't know, won't hurt you. I chewed the required amount and swallowed, washed it down with some coffee for good measure. The very next bite a dried cranberry managed to adhere itself to the inside of a number of my top molars, using my tongue to dislodge said cranberry I discovered one of the teeth involved was a little more jagged than usual, a little sharper than usual, a little less there than fucking usual! That crunchier crunch in my morning cereal was a filling! So I ran to the bathroom for a closer inspection and sure enough, my fucking filling was gone!
Okay, so last November I developed a bit of a tooth ache and after a visit to my regular dentist, I was informed I needed a root canal. Fine. Two trips to the specialist and one more trip to my regular dentist for a filling that my regular dentist informed me was only temporary because "that tooth is going to need a crown". Jesus wept! I could have had the darned thing pulled for four hundred bucks! At that point I had spent $1100 for the root canal and another couple of hundred for the regular visits. Damned tooth. Damned me for not taking better care of the damned tooth! *I am not complaining, I'm story telling, stick around.* So you can understand my hesitation to fork out yet more cash to have a crown put on the tooth.
I called the dentist's office expecting to beg and plead to get an appointment to fix my tooth today, they had an appointment right away! Woo Hoo! I finished my morning routine (ironically, I had to brush my teeth!) and prepared to leave. While I was brushing my teeth, Heaven decided to turn on the water works. Fantastic! These pictures were taken with my phone so the quality is not spectacular, but you get the point, this is what I drove to the dentist in.
Beauties, huh? Small bit of a torrential downpour, but hey! My flower garden is going to be luscious!
Upon arriving at the dentist the rain began to fall even harder and the 30 or so feet it was from my car to the door resulted in an thorough drenching. The dentist promptly began to admonish me for not coming in sooner. This is not a point that needed to be further driven home, in my opinion, but I figured I deserved it, so I accepted her scolding with as little contempt as possible, choosing to focus on how quickly I was given an appointment. Once the dentist decided I had learned my lesson she had a look at my tooth. Turns out the filling I was given after the root canal is still firmly in place (ha! temporary, my ass!), it was my tooth that fell out! Not all of it mind you, but a good portion of it. There is apparently enough left of it to affix the much needed crown to. Yay! Oh and when the tooth finally has it's elusive crown, I will have a tooth worth a little better than two grand. One tooth. I'm having that shit insured. Surely there is a company that wants to protect my pricey tooth from further damage or even theft!
I had been poked, prodded, drilled and filled when the hygienist came in to inform the dentist that she has had an opening this afternoon and could take another appointment. The dentist mentioned to me that I am due for a cleaning and offered me the slot. I figured work was a write off; the roof of my mouth felt like a pin cushion (still does) and my jaw felt like it was held open with a car jack for a cruel amount of time (still does), so why not suffer more abuse at the hands of my dentist! Sure! I tested my luck and asked if I could bring my kids in for a little torture *cough* cleaning as well. Why, of course! Score! It's a family outing, sans patriarch, outing nonetheless.
To prepare for the dentist, I had the kids brush their teeth real good, and then floss. Because you know, that's gonna make up for all the lazy dental hygiene since the last dentist visit. I was helping my son brush his teeth when he tells me he's going to sneeze. I told him to spit first (in an effort to avoid a toothpaste-y spray all over everyone). He hoists himself up on the vanity, he's short, and spits. Just in time, too. A sneeze immediately followed the spit; used toothpaste shower averted! Sadly, there wasn't enough time for him to avoid the hazards a sneeze and the bathroom sink present and he whacked his forehead off the faucet. I wish I could say I was a better mother. I wish I could say that I grabbed him as quickly as I could to kiss his boo boo better. I am not and I did not. What the hell did I do, you ask? I laughed. I laughed so hard I could barely breathe let alone ask him if he was okay. I would like to think if he were crying I wouldn't have laughed, at least not as hard as I did, but he wasn't and I was beyond control. I should add that his sister did not help the situation, she too laughed like she had never seen anything so funny. Once I regained my composure, I apologized and asked if he was OK. He was, obviously, but I'm sure it helps to know your mother cares enough to ask about your well being when she hasn't done such a stellar job of showing it. For the first time in my life, I wished there was a camera in the bathroom today, so I could share with you the unintentional comedy that occurred. Perhaps then you would understand why the loss of my Mother of The Year nomination was completely out of my hands. I was a slave to hilarious circumstance.
I could go on. My entire day followed a very specific set of rules, it would seem. Every situation seemed designed to break my resolve. The Whirling Maelstrom of Whining, as Spender so eloquently put it. I am happy to report; I didn't lose my cool, I didn't break down. I forced my self to find the good in each situation today and did. You know what? I think it might get easier too, next time it may not be so hard to be optimistic. Could I become an optimist? Will my pessimistic ways be a thing of the past? I am guardedly optimistic.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
What? No Complaints? Hmph!
I thought "I'll post a complaint blog tonight, get it outta my system". I agreed to have a No Whining Wednesday (I think that's what it's called) because of a fellow blogger, Lainey. Guess what. I've got no complaints. Nuttin'. Ha! My day has been pretty good. Work was ok as far as work goes. When I got home, things here were pretty fantastic. I've worked out. Yup, this girl's got nothin' to whine about tonight. Which leads me to believe the shit is gonna hit the fan tomorrow. Optimistic, aren't I?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Decisions, Decisions
I would like to write an ass-kicking fabulous post tonight, but I am afraid my brain is pre-occupied with other things. The pre-occupation is worrisome in and of itself because normally I have absolutely no trouble whatsoever tuning out realty and pulling up a front row seat to my imagination. I'm going to assume my imagination is in perfect working order and I have absolutely nothing to be worried about where that is concerned, perhaps I am learning how to make a decision. If that is the case, I don't wanna. I don't wanna because the decision bites big hairy you know whats. My job sucks. My jobs sucks in so many ways and on so many levels it is staggering. I hate my job. I wanted so badly to start a career, to be successful, self-sufficient, blah, blah, blah. I applied for and was given a position as a mortgage consultant. First and foremost, it would appear I am not cut out to be a sales person. Fine. I can accept my shortcomings (no, no I can't). It would also seem I may work for one of the devils nearest and dearest minions. My boss is ......well, let's just say he's something special. Many of his other employees would aspire to be top ranking members of the Dark Lord's team as well. I am only trying to be a little funny. But this, this is not my problem. My problem is my confidence is shattered. I thought I had made a good decision when I started this job. I thought it was the answer to what I wanted in a career. I was wrong in a big way and now I am afraid to make a decision, because I'm afraid of the outcome. Oh. And I have never failed at anything. Well, I have failed before but it was because I procrastinated or I didn't really give it the good ol' college try or whatever. I have never failed when I really put my mind to it. But this I failed and I'd be lying if I didn't tell you if feels like a punch in the gut. The realization that I am not perfect, I cannot do whatever the hell I want to is pretty fuckin' hard to swallow. It goes down a little easier with a rum chaser, but really, that's a dead end street ya know. And I have made a couple of friends. I will still be friends with them when I leave, but still, it's the kind of situation that makes me want to rescue someone. So, I guess I have decided I am going to quit (not before I find another job) but will I leave for something better or anything? Can I put up with it long enough to find something that could very well prove to be a career, do I trust myself enough to be judge of what is better? Or, do I cut and run? Take the first thing that comes along? Gah! Imagination, where are you?
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Why Do I Torture Myself?
In an effort to increase the number of classics I have read, I recently completed Rebecca. I chose this book as a result of reading a favourable review on another blog. I am glad to have read it because when I say it was atrocious I can tell you exactly what it was about the book that I disliked as opposed to saying "Oh, I tried, but I didn't like it so I never finished it".
Rebecca is the story of a young woman who is of a lower to middle class upbringing and becomes the second wife of a well to do older gentleman.
My problems with this book are many. The Narrator (that is what we have to call her, for she is never named) meets Maxim De Winter while being the paid companion to an obnoxious woman who is obsessively nosey and incredibly snobby. When the insufferable old coot falls ill and is bed ridden for a couple of weeks, The Narrator occupies her time getting to know Mr. De Winter, whom is presumably on vacation recovering from the loss of his wife. Once the employer regains her health she decides to visit a daughter in America. The distraught Narrator informs Maxim of her impending departure and he asks her to marry him. Yep, after a scant two weeks of courtship. Fine, I'll swallow that with only a mild grumble.
The Narrator has married a man twice her age. She moves into his home and assumes the role of a woman above any station she has been familiar with in life. Good, a little bit of a May-December Rags to Riches romance book. Great, I can enjoy a romance when it's well written. When the characters are likable. The Narrator is not. She is a nitwit. She constantly worries she is not up to the task of running a home such as Manderley, yet she never tries. She simply differs to the staff. She is harassed and terrorized by the former Mrs. De Winter's maid and says nothing, for fear of appearing weak, yet she never questions how weak she is when she is hiding or keeping secrets from from Ms. Danvers. She incessantly wonders if her husband loves her and whether she is living up to the reputation his first wife has left behind, without ever asking her husband what that reputation might be in his eyes. She eventually resigns herself to a loveless marriage so long as there is a facade in place so that the servants, family and public beyond never need know she has failed. She is certain Maxim does not love her. He cannot love her, she is unworthy of it.
I will give Daphne du Maurier credit, she threw a curve ball when I least expected it and it was the only thing that kept me from heaving this book at the wall. The twist was exactly what this book needed when it happened. Try reading a couple hundred pages worth of the the thoughts and ramblings of a woman with little to no self-worth. It is bloody draining. You want so much to root for her, you know there is something wrong, you are sure it isn't a result of The Narrator, but you find yourself rooting for her only because you know you should, such is the effect of her depression on you.
I have one other complaint. I usually enjoy when authors make use of speech/grammar trends of a particular era. I don't know if this one did, I would imagine its so, it is the only explanation I can think of. It seemed to lack an article where there should be one here and there. The chosen phrasing irked me on occasion. I don't know, I'm not doing an adequate job of explaining my meaning, I don't think. It could be this book is written in a style I haven't encountered before and am unfamiliar with, having nothing to do with the time it was written. Regardless of the reason, I did not enjoy reading the style.
I won't read this book again. I am glad I finished reading it because it was tough. It annoyed me and bored me, but I finished so that I could say I did. I didn't give up. So, there's that.
Rebecca is the story of a young woman who is of a lower to middle class upbringing and becomes the second wife of a well to do older gentleman.
My problems with this book are many. The Narrator (that is what we have to call her, for she is never named) meets Maxim De Winter while being the paid companion to an obnoxious woman who is obsessively nosey and incredibly snobby. When the insufferable old coot falls ill and is bed ridden for a couple of weeks, The Narrator occupies her time getting to know Mr. De Winter, whom is presumably on vacation recovering from the loss of his wife. Once the employer regains her health she decides to visit a daughter in America. The distraught Narrator informs Maxim of her impending departure and he asks her to marry him. Yep, after a scant two weeks of courtship. Fine, I'll swallow that with only a mild grumble.
The Narrator has married a man twice her age. She moves into his home and assumes the role of a woman above any station she has been familiar with in life. Good, a little bit of a May-December Rags to Riches romance book. Great, I can enjoy a romance when it's well written. When the characters are likable. The Narrator is not. She is a nitwit. She constantly worries she is not up to the task of running a home such as Manderley, yet she never tries. She simply differs to the staff. She is harassed and terrorized by the former Mrs. De Winter's maid and says nothing, for fear of appearing weak, yet she never questions how weak she is when she is hiding or keeping secrets from from Ms. Danvers. She incessantly wonders if her husband loves her and whether she is living up to the reputation his first wife has left behind, without ever asking her husband what that reputation might be in his eyes. She eventually resigns herself to a loveless marriage so long as there is a facade in place so that the servants, family and public beyond never need know she has failed. She is certain Maxim does not love her. He cannot love her, she is unworthy of it.
I will give Daphne du Maurier credit, she threw a curve ball when I least expected it and it was the only thing that kept me from heaving this book at the wall. The twist was exactly what this book needed when it happened. Try reading a couple hundred pages worth of the the thoughts and ramblings of a woman with little to no self-worth. It is bloody draining. You want so much to root for her, you know there is something wrong, you are sure it isn't a result of The Narrator, but you find yourself rooting for her only because you know you should, such is the effect of her depression on you.
I have one other complaint. I usually enjoy when authors make use of speech/grammar trends of a particular era. I don't know if this one did, I would imagine its so, it is the only explanation I can think of. It seemed to lack an article where there should be one here and there. The chosen phrasing irked me on occasion. I don't know, I'm not doing an adequate job of explaining my meaning, I don't think. It could be this book is written in a style I haven't encountered before and am unfamiliar with, having nothing to do with the time it was written. Regardless of the reason, I did not enjoy reading the style.
I won't read this book again. I am glad I finished reading it because it was tough. It annoyed me and bored me, but I finished so that I could say I did. I didn't give up. So, there's that.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Just a Thought or Two.
Have you read Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged? I have. I found it intriguing. I have believed a person or society, for that matter, that is stronger, richer, healthier should take care of those that are weaker, poorer, sicker. Ayn Rand did not believe so. She coined the Objectivism philosophy. I am over-simplifying it, but it essentially the right to your own genius, profit and.....No, no I can't over-simplify it, because my explanation above doesn't nearly do it justice. Read the book. Seriously, it's long, but I think it's worth it.
Ayn Rand wrote an entire book (a few, actually) devoted to her philosophy. She makes an excellent argument. Atlas Shrugged had me questioning my beliefs. A particularly poignant part of the book is a conversation between the protagonist and another character - I don't remember who, I also don't remember the quote word for word and it's Sunday morning so I am reserving my right to be lazy and not look it up. You will get the gist, I am sure - The question is posed; If Atlas carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and the world is thankless for it, what would you have him do? The answer; shrug. I found that to be some of the most powerful imagery I have encountered in my reading travels. The image carried so much weight I had to put the book down for a bit to devote some thought to it. But it isn't the idea of Objectivism I am here to talk about today, it's that they want to make a movie based on this book. So I checked IMDB . Apparently one person or another has been threatening to do this for awhile. I have a number of problems with this.
1 - the book is better than a thousand pages long.
2 - there is a monologue in the book, a very important monologue in the book that took me 3 hours to read. Yes, 3 hours, don't let it discourage you though, I found it to be the only part of the two books I have read by her (the other was the Fountainhead) where her preachiness was overbearing. I think the entire thing could have been said in a hell of a lot less words, but I have never written, edited or published a book, so who am I?
3 - from what I have read on IMDB so far, I think they may miss the point.
4- and this one isn't a problem, per se, just something that makes me go hmmmm, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are tied to it. Angelina as Dagny Taggart obviously, but will Brad Pitt be John Galt or Hank Reardon? Hmmmm
5- I already said it in 1 & 3, but it bears repeating, this is a big fucking book, BIG book, not just in length but the idea, the story that conveys the idea....I just don't think Hollywood can translate it to screen without losing a lot of the message. Plus, I'm not sure the general public will want to see this movie. Ayn Rand takes self-serving, shoves it down your throat, asks you to chew on it a bit, digest it, and enjoy that fucking meal. People don't like self-serving. Unless Hollywood completely re-writes the characters, I would be willing to bet most people will dislike the leads in this story. If they succeed in writing the characters so that people will care about them, I think they will lose the idea. I dunno. Again, I have never written a screenplay of any sort, let alone one based on a book, so what do I know?
I don't know if I want this to be made. I'm not sure my faith in Hollywood is strong enough to trust that they can do this. I don't know if, when they do it, I will want to see this movie or if I will be able to resist my curiosity. We shall see.
Ayn Rand wrote an entire book (a few, actually) devoted to her philosophy. She makes an excellent argument. Atlas Shrugged had me questioning my beliefs. A particularly poignant part of the book is a conversation between the protagonist and another character - I don't remember who, I also don't remember the quote word for word and it's Sunday morning so I am reserving my right to be lazy and not look it up. You will get the gist, I am sure - The question is posed; If Atlas carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and the world is thankless for it, what would you have him do? The answer; shrug. I found that to be some of the most powerful imagery I have encountered in my reading travels. The image carried so much weight I had to put the book down for a bit to devote some thought to it. But it isn't the idea of Objectivism I am here to talk about today, it's that they want to make a movie based on this book. So I checked IMDB . Apparently one person or another has been threatening to do this for awhile. I have a number of problems with this.
1 - the book is better than a thousand pages long.
2 - there is a monologue in the book, a very important monologue in the book that took me 3 hours to read. Yes, 3 hours, don't let it discourage you though, I found it to be the only part of the two books I have read by her (the other was the Fountainhead) where her preachiness was overbearing. I think the entire thing could have been said in a hell of a lot less words, but I have never written, edited or published a book, so who am I?
3 - from what I have read on IMDB so far, I think they may miss the point.
4- and this one isn't a problem, per se, just something that makes me go hmmmm, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are tied to it. Angelina as Dagny Taggart obviously, but will Brad Pitt be John Galt or Hank Reardon? Hmmmm
5- I already said it in 1 & 3, but it bears repeating, this is a big fucking book, BIG book, not just in length but the idea, the story that conveys the idea....I just don't think Hollywood can translate it to screen without losing a lot of the message. Plus, I'm not sure the general public will want to see this movie. Ayn Rand takes self-serving, shoves it down your throat, asks you to chew on it a bit, digest it, and enjoy that fucking meal. People don't like self-serving. Unless Hollywood completely re-writes the characters, I would be willing to bet most people will dislike the leads in this story. If they succeed in writing the characters so that people will care about them, I think they will lose the idea. I dunno. Again, I have never written a screenplay of any sort, let alone one based on a book, so what do I know?
I don't know if I want this to be made. I'm not sure my faith in Hollywood is strong enough to trust that they can do this. I don't know if, when they do it, I will want to see this movie or if I will be able to resist my curiosity. We shall see.
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