There are times when writing is a really wonderful distraction. It will have to be right now. I'm feeling sick and won't be able to sleep for a little bit. As a result I decided it was time for a bit of change in the blogesphere. I've had the same background since I started this thing (I think) and I still had my little Harry Potter 7 predictions tab and I never uploaded a picture!. So. I have done so. I have officially added a picture of me in Warwick this summer. The caption is in reference to The Lady of Shalott and the quote from Anne of Green Gables, where my blog got its name in the first place. A tad bit cliche, I suppose. Every female at BYU who ever saw (or read) Anne of Green Gables says that they are fans but they're all wrong. Trust me on this one. My life is ridiculously Anne-ish and anyone who thinks they have me beat needs to speak with the 25 or so girls I went to England with this summer. They will all back me up. Or my mother. Who would also back me up (but she's a bit more biased). I take great pride in the imaginary kinship I have with Maud.
I've been reading her journals lately and I've been having a really marvelous time of it. I love how her word choice leaves a reader knowing exactly when she is being sarcastic or funny or sadistic on purpose or for effect. It's wonderful. I just finished a section during her one year (only one! I'm so jealous) of teachers college. It was hilarious because (apparently) some things will never change. She writes about waking up late for classes or playing jokes on professors and going through classroom management classes at Prince of Wales College in Charlottetown, PEI-all things that I have done/will do.
What is unfortunate about all this is that I know where her story ends. It's horrible. The road to the publication of Anne was long and ended up landing her in a nasty business deal with L.C. Page Co. that forced her into writing several sequels in the series that she didn't want to write. She ended up with a husband later in life who was bound to fits of depression and misery that rubbed off onto her to the point where she stopped writing anything in the months leading to her death in 1942. The stress and tragedy of World War I had been bad enough-World War II was more than she could handle. Such a sad life, in the end. Such a high price to pay for publication. It makes me wonder what she would think of the popularity of her book now. was popular enough when it was first published but now the series is embedded permanently in the ranks of the classics. She'd probably think it was a bit of a joke. I wonder at what she would think of all that's happened to PEI in the touristy realm. I suppose I am lucky in that sense-I don't really feel altogether attached to a single place. I feel more or less convinced that I could be happy anywhere (though I might need a bit more convincing if the place didn't have much season variation. I love the change of season).
I'm going to try and sleep. We'll see how it works out.
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