Perceptions:

Katherine Watson: You can confirm to what other people expect of you, or...
Betty Warren: I know. Be ourselves.


Pulled from the halls of a large concentration of mass media, Macintosh computers, buzz about what’s new and hot, and the ever constant stream of information flowing through the classrooms, I have been plopped right down into a scene from "Mona Lisa Smile.” Base boards at least six inches up the walls, old time hinges, flake paint around the slim doors, with bubble glass windows and brass doorknobs. Above, the ductwork is exposed; stemming from what I am guessing is a lack of such inventions upon the original constriction. There is a certain musty and drafty smell to the hallways, as anything pounded or uttered in any part of the building can be heard basically anywhere. Hamilton College holds a certain appeal to it. For sure this is not the first class- high tech-state of the art classrooms that I have been sitting in all this time. But yet here, here is the perfect place to learn American Literature. Why not place a class in a setting that originates so far back? Why not let your mind think about all the people who have walked these tiled halls, in poodle skirts? Go-go boots? Bellbottoms? Leggings? And now sweater boots and shirt dresses? What exactly has passed through these doors? I would figure quite a lot. I arrived fairly early for the class so I took some time to look around, and explore…upon finding the bathroom, the windows, the type with the wood separating each pane, were propped open, a small stand a lone sink, with water the color of tea. First lesson learned in this building? Don’t drink the water. Radiators give off heat, and trust me, you don't want to touch them, and they definitely are not there to be a "catch all" counter. This is the type of building that I want to grab a dimpled couch, a throw and a good old, falling apart book; the type of book that has faded, pages curl incessantly upward, binder split and cracked, the book that has been loved from cover to cover. If a book could be loved to life like the Velveteen Rabbit, I would have quite a few live books. How exciting would that be? Just think, I would get to see Homer's Odyssey spring from the pages and come to life I would watch that island, and see him sail away, I would catch glimpses of those terrible gods that throw around human life at will, for their own pleasure. Then maybe I would get to lean against the stone wall and listen to Marius and Cosette in Victor Hugo's
Les Miserables. What amazing things could you see if this was possible?

So let me know....what book would you love to life if you could?
Do tell!

"Remember this is now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted." Sylvia Plath wrote these words after her realization on the brevity of life. Before her death she wrote novels, filled countless journals, and amassed a good amount of poetry that was later published by her husband. Sadly, Plath never got to see her work succeed. Plath’s words were strong and passionate, yet they held relevance to the reader just as they did to the author. She was able to take the mundane things in life and create a picture that spilled out onto her audience, exactly how she perceived the world around her. Though I utterly love Sylvia Plath, this blog isn't about her, but it is about life, written down in words as I see it, as is relevant to me, the author. I thought long and hard what exactly the blog should be about, shouldn't a blog be about something? Thats why I decided just to make it about everyday, normal complacent life. Nothing flamboyant. Just simple thoughts on simple things. I will try to update everyday, if not every other. I hope it is enjoyable to whoever choices to read it, but nonetheless, I will be here, writing away, because that is what I love to do. And as Plath pleaded with her readers, "Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences."