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Comment on this entry and I will give you a letter if you want. Write ten words beginning with that letter in your journal, including an explanation of what the word means to you and why, and then pass out letters to those who want to play along.
The letter C, assigned me by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
oursin
Cats Of course. The big C in my life. Maybe they’re substitute children, but I really think for me they’re alter egos, living the vain, pleasure-seeking, totally self-absorbed, but also fearful and haunted life I am really living, if I admit it. I never lived very long without one or several. As a child, my family didn’t spay or neuter, and often had close to 20, including various generations of kittens. Makes me sad to think that no doubt some descendants of those well-loved friends are hungry strays now, so I never close my door to a meow. I do take them off to the vet as soon as I can get them in a carrier! But I do miss watching kittens, especially at that tiny scampering wild age, around six weeks.
Catalonia One of the places we’ll be visiting this summer, along with Tuscany and Rome. I’d rather go in the fall, our original plan, but Bill has a July conference in Barcelona. I have only some very stereotyped knowledge of that part of the world, mostly Gaudi’s architecture and Orwell’s writing. But the little I’ve read online and in travel books makes me think I’ll love it—warm weather, beautiful architecture, great food, and an unknown city to discover…one of my ideal vacations.
Characters The ones I create, of course. They make writing so terrible and wonderful. I’m assuming that they too like cats are parts of myself, so first drafts are amazing moments of unveiling the mirror. But it makes revision hard! Trying not just to let them go along revealing themselves, but actually making the plot go somewhere…I discovered that it’s a lot easier to cut characters if I keep them somewhere in a file, where they still exist for me.
Chakrasana, also known as Urdhva Dhanurasana or Full Backbend. Learning to do this yoga pose at 63 was interesting. First, it was great to discover that I could push my body to do things it hadn’t been able to do, but it was also a discovery that I had the mental ability to keep trying even when I failed over a long period of time (at least two years). And then those real yoga lessons—that as I focused more on the process of opening my chest and strengthening my wrists, and less on the outcome, “achieving the pose,” suddenly one day I just did it. And then finally realizing that after that I had a whole new thing to deal with—my ego, about letting go of achievement, and moving on to a new direction, so I could still balance on that path that lets me be content with myself and find growth at the same time
Counsel in the sense of advice, especially the kind you get when you take a problem to a group of friends who can talk it over and give you new ways of thinking about it. I so much admire how some people have such good judgment and others so much compassion, and even more how just the act of talking makes dark things clear. I’m fortunate to have groups of friends like that, not least of which is you, readers.
Clematis For me, the kind we call Sweet Autumn that blooms here in August. I have to keep cutting it back or my whole yard will be covered with it, but it’s a temptation—when it blooms, it’s such a froth of white, and smells so sweet. Right now the lagustrum’s at its best, with dark green leaves behind cluster of ivory flowers. And my big oak-leaf hydrangea is beginning to open its blooms, too. Don’t know if it’ll make it through the summer, since I’ll be away.
Christ, my house-sitter Not often do we find English-speakers named after deities, but he is. Usually we call him Chris, though. He’s the partner of one my former teaching colleagues, and I can’t say how glad I am that he’s willing to stay here with Mop and BC, and keep the home fires burning while I wander.
Calamari and other creepy critters that I love to eat. Even better, octopus! For some reason, those tentacled guys have such a wonderful texture, and absorb rich flavors so well. But don’t hold up too well—bought some ready-made calamari salad and the grocery store the other day and was sad to find it had a very inappropriately fishy taste. Not right.
cummings, e e A writer I learned to love a bit late in life, I guess—I was at least twenty when I found him. Oddly, it’s not the experimental side I really like the best, though that’s fun (the falling leaf poem, etc)—I really love his beautiful visual imagery, and his romantic vision. He’s sort of my Keats, I guess—think how he’d hate that.
Carter, John of ER—not that it’s been one of my bigger fandoms, but I really appreciate how that show’s keeping Darfur in our minds, even when we’re trying to escape into trash.
The letter C, assigned me by
oursinCats Of course. The big C in my life. Maybe they’re substitute children, but I really think for me they’re alter egos, living the vain, pleasure-seeking, totally self-absorbed, but also fearful and haunted life I am really living, if I admit it. I never lived very long without one or several. As a child, my family didn’t spay or neuter, and often had close to 20, including various generations of kittens. Makes me sad to think that no doubt some descendants of those well-loved friends are hungry strays now, so I never close my door to a meow. I do take them off to the vet as soon as I can get them in a carrier! But I do miss watching kittens, especially at that tiny scampering wild age, around six weeks.
Catalonia One of the places we’ll be visiting this summer, along with Tuscany and Rome. I’d rather go in the fall, our original plan, but Bill has a July conference in Barcelona. I have only some very stereotyped knowledge of that part of the world, mostly Gaudi’s architecture and Orwell’s writing. But the little I’ve read online and in travel books makes me think I’ll love it—warm weather, beautiful architecture, great food, and an unknown city to discover…one of my ideal vacations.
Characters The ones I create, of course. They make writing so terrible and wonderful. I’m assuming that they too like cats are parts of myself, so first drafts are amazing moments of unveiling the mirror. But it makes revision hard! Trying not just to let them go along revealing themselves, but actually making the plot go somewhere…I discovered that it’s a lot easier to cut characters if I keep them somewhere in a file, where they still exist for me.
Chakrasana, also known as Urdhva Dhanurasana or Full Backbend. Learning to do this yoga pose at 63 was interesting. First, it was great to discover that I could push my body to do things it hadn’t been able to do, but it was also a discovery that I had the mental ability to keep trying even when I failed over a long period of time (at least two years). And then those real yoga lessons—that as I focused more on the process of opening my chest and strengthening my wrists, and less on the outcome, “achieving the pose,” suddenly one day I just did it. And then finally realizing that after that I had a whole new thing to deal with—my ego, about letting go of achievement, and moving on to a new direction, so I could still balance on that path that lets me be content with myself and find growth at the same time
Counsel in the sense of advice, especially the kind you get when you take a problem to a group of friends who can talk it over and give you new ways of thinking about it. I so much admire how some people have such good judgment and others so much compassion, and even more how just the act of talking makes dark things clear. I’m fortunate to have groups of friends like that, not least of which is you, readers.
Clematis For me, the kind we call Sweet Autumn that blooms here in August. I have to keep cutting it back or my whole yard will be covered with it, but it’s a temptation—when it blooms, it’s such a froth of white, and smells so sweet. Right now the lagustrum’s at its best, with dark green leaves behind cluster of ivory flowers. And my big oak-leaf hydrangea is beginning to open its blooms, too. Don’t know if it’ll make it through the summer, since I’ll be away.
Christ, my house-sitter Not often do we find English-speakers named after deities, but he is. Usually we call him Chris, though. He’s the partner of one my former teaching colleagues, and I can’t say how glad I am that he’s willing to stay here with Mop and BC, and keep the home fires burning while I wander.
Calamari and other creepy critters that I love to eat. Even better, octopus! For some reason, those tentacled guys have such a wonderful texture, and absorb rich flavors so well. But don’t hold up too well—bought some ready-made calamari salad and the grocery store the other day and was sad to find it had a very inappropriately fishy taste. Not right.
cummings, e e A writer I learned to love a bit late in life, I guess—I was at least twenty when I found him. Oddly, it’s not the experimental side I really like the best, though that’s fun (the falling leaf poem, etc)—I really love his beautiful visual imagery, and his romantic vision. He’s sort of my Keats, I guess—think how he’d hate that.
Carter, John of ER—not that it’s been one of my bigger fandoms, but I really appreciate how that show’s keeping Darfur in our minds, even when we’re trying to escape into trash.
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I feel like a dodo, but I don't see how to comment in your LJ! I'm sure it's right there and I'm missing it. I'll look for you on my flist.
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I share your love of the letter C, and cats, as you know. Also clematis, and comfort.
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Oh, and my LJ craziness from earlier is over. I'm back to normal now.
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Yes, I'd like a letter, please!
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