Weekend Coffee Share 2/18/17

If we were having coffee, we’d be lounging in the sunshine with our drinks of choice.  I’d be in a light flannel and we’d be watching the crusty piles of snow turn slowly to puddles.  We’re in a remarkably warm stretch of weather–unusual for Minnesota this time of year.

Good weather like this reminds me of a scene in the film Lars and the Real Girl.  After going bowling, Lars and Margo linger outside chatting about the weather like good Midwesterners.  Lars comments that it’s been warm lately and spring is on the way.  Margo replies, “It’s just a thaw.  Spring doesn’t come until Easter.”

So, while the sunshine and warmth is amazing, I’m not getting my hopes up.  It’s just a thaw.  We’ll probably have a new foot of snow by next week.

Weekend Coffee Share: Let’s Catch Up

If we were having coffee, I’d begin by telling you how much I’ve missed you.  The past couple of weeks have been busy and and blogging has been the last thing on my mind.  For the past few days, I my body has been fighting off a cold.  I’ve been storing away post ideas, but haven’t had the energy to write them yet.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I got to see a fantastic production of Sense & Sensibility at the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis a few weeks ago.  Although I’ve read all her works multiple times, seen all the adaptations, and even visited Jane Austen’s house in England, S&S is the only one of her works that I had the opportunity to actually study while in college.  Because of what I gleaned in class, Elinor Dashwood has become one of my favorite Austen heroines.

The benefits of dating yourself

Weird title, I know.

By two o’clock today, I had gone to church, worked out, and finished all my weekend homework.  All my friends were busy, and I was left with an entire afternoon with nothing to do.  I’m an introvert, but too much time alone in my room makes me lonely.  It’s like my heart feels heavy and empty and no amount of Netflix can make it better.  Knowing I had hours ahead of me in my own company, I didn’t want to waste the day moping around.

So I took action by taking myself on a date.

It was a wonderful afternoon.  I sang to the radio during the hour drive to and from Alexandria.  I talked to my mom on the phone.  I went to see Cinderella a second time and loved it just as much as the first.  (Be sure to check out my post about it!)  I went out to eat and spent dinner with my favorite John Green novel.  (Which, in case you were wondering, is Paper Towns.)   I meandered through Target, sighing over pretty clothes and household decorations.  I purchased a new purse and the final Hobbit movie.  (Be sure to check out my post about that one too!).

On the drive home, I spent a great deal of time meditating on the nostalgia that comes with the end of a season in life.  With only a handful of weeks left of college, there are so many aspects of life here that I’ve taken for granted.  As I approached Morris, instead of heading to campus, I drove to the overlook just outside of town.  Perched on a rock, I watched the sun set over the tiny town I’ve called home these past few years.  It was such a beautiful, peaceful moment– one that I know I’ll hold in my heart for a long time.

Afternoons like this one remind me that incredible joy can be found in little things.  It felt so good to forget the stresses of college, to drive away, and do things just for the sake of doing them.  I think that it’s important to learn to date yourself.  You can have a lot of fun and learn a great deal in your own company.

Driving home to Morris in the sunset.

 

Reenacting Dracula (and why I’m never going to be an actor)

Yesterday in Victorian Lit, my classmates and I became actors.  In order to stress the important elements in a certain scene in Dracula, my professor (Brad) assembled a hand-picked cast and, after giving a few directions, let us work our magic.

I was given the role of Arthur Holmwood, the super-manly fiance of the now-vampire Lucy Westenra.  One of my classmates, Drewe, was cast as Lucy.  My roommate played Van Helsing and a couple of classmates took the roles of Quincy Morris and John Seward.

Here is the material we had to work with:

“Go on,” said Arthur hoarsely. “Tell me what I am to do.”

“Take this stake in your left hand, ready to place to the point over the heart, and the hammer in your right. Then when we begin our prayer for the dead, I shall read him, I have here the book, and the others shall follow, strike in God’s name, that so all may be well with the dead that we love and that the UnDead pass away.”

Arthur took the stake and the hammer, and when once his mind was set on action his hands never trembled nor even quivered. Van Helsing opened his missal and began to read, and Quincey and I followed as well as we could.

Arthur placed the point over the heart, and as I looked I could see its dint in the white flesh. Then he struck with all his might.

The thing in the coffin writhed, and a hideous, blood-curdling screech came from the opened red lips. The body shook and quivered and twisted in wild contortions. The sharp white teeth champed together till the lips were cut, and the mouth was smeared with a crimson foam. But Arthur never faltered. He looked like a figure of Thor as his untrembling arm rose and fell, driving deeper and deeper the mercy-bearing stake, whilst the blood from the pierced heart welled and spurted up around it. His face was set, and high duty seemed to shine through it. The sight of it gave us courage so that our voices seemed to ring through the little vault.

And then the writhing and quivering of the body became less, and the teeth seemed to champ, and the face to quiver. Finally it lay still. The terrible task was over.

(Bram Stoker.  Dracula.  Chapter 16)

First of all, isn’t the passage absolutely fantastic?

Brad read the text in a dramatic voice as we played the scene.

Drewe, as my undead fiance, was sprawled out on the table at the front of the classroom.  I towered over her, holding up my imaginary stake and hammer.  Van Helsing and company (my roommate and peers) stood next to me reading out of an imaginary prayer-book.  As Brad’s voice spelled out the portion about not trembling or quivering, I did my best to contort my face into an expression of boldness.  I don’t think I was very successful.  It was incredibly hard not to laugh.

Then, I drove the imaginary stake into Drewe’s heart.  She thrashed.  She flailed.  She wriggled all over the table.  I struggled to keep a straight face, trying to be as impressive and powerful as the Norse god Stoker compared Arthur to.  (Again, I don’t think I was very successful.)  I pounded and pounded on the stake.  The deeper it was pounded, the more Drewe’s writhing increased.

Then, she stopped.

And I got to go back to my seat.

It was a fun and entertaining experience, that’s for sure.  But if I learned one thing, it would be this: it’s a good thing I didn’t major in Theater, because I’m a terrible actor.