Don’t be chai; I love you a latte.

IMG_5670

Chai latte. Absolute yums.

Dear Lovelies,

I have had the busiest week, but it feels like I haven’t done much. Sort of an unsatisfying feeling. I have been reading a lot, but really no fiction. I’ve been reading about debt in nineteenth-century England. Let’s just say, I am obsessed with Margot Finn. She is an incredible historian, and I absolutely love reading her works. This is why my progress, a pilgrim’s progress (haha, obscure inside joke with Charles Dickens), has been rather slower than anticipated. I’ve just been drinking up her work and playing soft with all of my timelines.  In fictional news, I just started Elizabeth Gaskell’s Ruth. I don’t even know how I stumbled upon this, but Gaskell consulted Dickens when she was writing this book. I haven’t gotten too far in the text, but so far it has mentioned The Pilgrims Progress and it directly deals with similar social mores also found in Dickens’s texts, such as Oliver Twist and Little Dorrit. Gaskell’s text, however, is not at all Romantic in the ways that Dickens is. This is all preliminary observations. More will follow!

Folio Society Editions

In other news, IT IS SPRING TIME. I mean, I’ve been going on about the weather for a while. But there are finally buds on trees, plants are greening, grass is glowing (and growing). The only distressing part about the warming weather is that my dog struggles a lot more in the heat. Last night, she did quite a long walk, but she was so over-heated by the time we were done. She also gets into these moods, and I think anyone with a dog will recognise it. She just runs, and growls, and hops, and pounces, and *chase me*. It’s super adorable because it’s this inexplicable burst of energy, but she also has a heart problem. She seems to forget her age and insists upon energy explosions.

I hope I’m like that when I’m her age, respectively….just want to share my love and energy with everyone. That’s the great things about dogs and children; they just run and play. It’s sad that adults don’t do that. Why do we stop playing when we hit mild-adulthood (teens). I think we tell people they need to act their age not their shoe size. *no you dinnnn’t*

I hope to start filming and uploading content both here and for YouTube this week. The only issue is that everyone’s days off always interfere with my schedules. Boop de poops. Anticipation is great! Just keep swimming, my loves.

Heaps and heaps of love,
Word Play Xx

Connect with me elsewhere:
facebooktwitter YoutubeinstagramTumblr-Icon goodreads

The Ides of March, or Ideas short of A…

unnamed-8

I began writing this post about republicanism, Caesar, salads, betrayal, and the mentalité of empire, but I lost that post. Whoops. So let’s go back to what I wanted to do in the beginning. Every month on the 15-17th, I am going to make a post about different things: favourites, not so favourites, and all the things in between. (Apologies that this one is a little late).

This month I have been totally in love with the Body Shop. Bath, shower, cleanliness products are positive triggers. A happy and infectious smell can make your day have a little more bounce, just as we all wish our hair did. Except, I always end up putting my hair up in a bun or out of sight in a braid. Generally, throughout my life, my hair has been quite long. Except, every so often, once every year or so, I get a little distressed at how much work my hair requires, so I have chopped it quite short. I never fret about cutting it short because it grows quite quickly, and I do like being able to let it air dry without turning into an ice burg before it is somewhat dry. My hair is long, at the moment, but because I am tallish, I think it doesn’t seem quite so long as it is. Proportions, baby.

Ear jamz: --or, another of my favourites.

I rarely listen to my iPod anymore because my dog has choking fits, so I have to be able to hear her. On walks, I’ve started to just wear one headphone. I had forgotten how much music feeds my soul. It totally changed my day. I don’t really like watching television, but like most other people, if you put it in front of me, I’ll watch it. Yet, if I have music on, I’m far more likely to be productive and get a lot of things done. Music is motivational; that’s why there is such an ease to decorate our houses at Christmas time &c., when music is part of the cheer. Additionally, I think that decorating for Christmas, whether or not you celebrate it religiously or have the funds to have a fancy party, the lights and pretty colours remind us of springtime and freshness. Although, the air outside might be frightful…spring is so GD delightful.

I can feel my whole mood change as the season shifts. I love spring; summer is problematic because it gets a little too hot for my liking, and A/C is, at times, a little too unnatural. It’s nice to have a shower and sit on the porch as your hair dries on particularly summery days. I remember last summer, in London, I was trying to work on my dissertation at my uni’s library, but it was so hot that my arms kept sticking to all of the surfaces. To make it worse, I had bought coffee to put me in a working mood. You should know, when I overheat I lose my temper quite easily. So, I packed up all of my stuff, walked home, had a cold shower, closed the blinds, put on the fans, and read in the semi-darkness of my room. Heat is okay, but not when you’re trying to write on a machine that produces heat as much as it hates to overheat. Pooh! Pooh! Technology! Pooh! Pooh!

My little munchkin is sleeping so soundly right now. Doggies are so soulful. I hope that, in my life, I am always blessed to have funds, enough, to have a dog. Unfortunately, I know that it won’t always be the case because they really are quite a lot of work, but I give my heart and world to my little beast, and my heart and soul seem to float with ease. My favourite times of the days are when I feed her. She is hand fed because, honestly, she is very fluffy and has a very short snout, so it’s much cleaner just to feed her by hand. We make her food for her, too, so she eats a wet-food diet. In any case, whenever she is being fed, she always has this look that shines through her eyes of pure happiness and love. One cannot fail to be relaxed and at ease. I feel really blessed, and I want to share that with you, reader, because we absorb each other’s happiness and share it at exponential rates. Instead of snowballing into a negative feeling, it snowballs into a feeling akin to rolling in a field full of daisies that erupts into balloons that float infinitely into the sky (each landing in recycle receptacles and not polluting our world further). It’s a happiness that we get from making someone else happy. That happiness cannot be altered because, in those moments, our hearts and minds feel infinite and perfect. That is right.

I’ll leave it here for today. Look forward to monthly Ides posts. And by the middle of next week, I am going to start setting up some Oliver Twist themed posts. Due to job applications and other responsibilities, I’ve been a bit busy, but hopefully I’ll be able to share some successes with you all.

Heaps of Love,
Word Play Xx

Things I’ve Learnt Walking My Dog

unnamed-5

There are some things that we have to do. Feed ourselves. Have a wee. You get the idea. As walking, capable beings, these acts seem second-nature, if not first. Of course, food depends on income stability. It’s something that may easily be taken for granted. My dog makes me think about this often. I use ‘make’ consciously because I have control over my food and her food, and when I am eating–she always wants some. I am aware that she wants some. She gets some bananny when I make smoothies. She gets cheese when I make lunch, even though I cannot eat cheese. She is fed promptly at the same times. She is loved. And, most of all, she loves chicken. She believes all chicken belongs to her. If you’re eating it, it must be some cosmic mistake. She will forgive you, but really, don’t you know better by now?

But these observations are quick to note down in one’s log book. I think the times I am truly awoken from a sort of unconsciousness are when we walk. My dog is especially stubborn. She is a shihtzu, and she doesn’t shed. In the summers, it gets far too hot for her, so we have to carry her home most of the time. Because of this precedent, she has, for years, decided that her compass points in one direction. And, in that direction, we must walk as far as possible at whichever speed she most prefers. I must, therefore, carry her home. I don’t really mind. It only gets difficult when she wriggles in my arms so she can see in the direction we’re walking, rather than over my shoulder. So with this in mind, I’m sure you can imagine I’ve had a lot of time to think…

I’ve wondered about how other dog owners or trainers might view this behaviour. Your dog should obey you. Your dog should walk in the path you prescribe. But, it’s not that easy. She’s small. She has a heart problem. So, when she’s tired. I’ll carry her. She’s also especially nosey. She spies on what people do. She does her business for them, too. You should be flattered. I am not at my most flattering angles whilst cleaning up her mess, but one must. For instance, there is someone in my neighbourhood who never cleans up after their dog. I feel like that’s the most basic of contracts you make with your dog and society. You poop; therefore, I scoop. Additionally, I’m beginning to wonder if another of my neighbours has a small pony they walk. A small flowerbed could be fertilized. I know this borders on the side of a disturbing topic, but I don’t think we should be as taboo about this stuff. Maybe, then, my neighbours would pick up after their doggies. Also, before I begin my next thought, I do not want it to seem contradictory that I am saying poop should be less of a banned topic and also affirming that my neighbours should clean it. It’s basic hygiene guys. Do your do.

Alright. So, I might have mentioned it before, but there is this philosopher, Julia Kristeva, who describes abjection. Kristeva explains that the abject is neither the subject nor the object, but it is the thing that is able to disturb the boundaries between finite positions or cultural constructions. An easy example is a corpse. The corpse disgusts the living being because it reminds us of death. Indeed, our own death. We are confronted by death, and we cannot challenge it. Another example is, what I have been discussing above, poop. In order to live, we must eat, we must defecate; but we are disgusted with our waste. So, we push the corpse into the coffin and our poop out of our minds and toilets. Our cultural consciousnesses is burdened and disturbed by these signifiers of death and filth. The corpse was once a conscious being–a subject. The poop is the evidence of food incorporated into our beings–giving us life.

I used to be really embarrassed about picking up my dog’s poop. I used to think, what would my friend think if they saw me do this? Or, what would my lover do? Leave me forever? Well, I imagine that, now, I would say to anyone that crap begets and is evidence of life. When we are ashamed of the dog’s filth, aren’t we just ashamed of our own filth. My dog’s consciousness is a matter I cannot fully examine. But I know she feels love, anxiety, happiness, boredom, sadness, fear, and calm. And, above all, she likes to poop for others. On our walks, perhaps, poop is less of a goal for her, but she does go. That is not our reason for walking. I always sense a stab of adventure from her as she pulls me in one direction and refuses to walk in another. I laugh at her when she does silly things. I tease her when she farts (it happens rarely). I give her kisses when she has a heart-fit and needs to be reassured of herself. I hold her, despite her unwavering sense of independence. I make trenches in the snow, so she can walk and lead me north or south, east or west.

I think one of the most valuable lessons I’ve learnt walking my dog, it’s that, no matter the weather, no matter the time of day, when I pick her up, I always tell her, look how beautiful the sky is today. Her eyesight might not make those fine distinctions, she may just see darkness or impenetrable light, but she is secure in my arms and, through me, our connection to the universe is infinite.

***

unnamed-6My week thus far

We’re going for a walk now. Talk soon.

Heaps of love,
Word Play & Misha Xx