It is Wednesday! And I'm feeling a tad whimsical, so I thought about taking a different approach to this blog today. If you know me in real life, either as a person, colleague, or writer, you know that fantasy is one of my favorite themes. Fairy tales were my favorites as a child (my Granny would read me Little Red Riding Hood every single weekend I spent with her), and even today I am a huge fan of Sarah J. Maas (Court of Thorns and Roses series) and Jennifer Armentrout (From Blood and Ash, I am obsessed with Poppy and Hawke!) So it is no surprise that my interests in fantasy sort of cross into my real beliefs.
If you went through a literature gothic phase in high school, as many literature lovers do, you recognize the title of this post from The Raven by none other than Mr. Edgar Allen Poe. It's still one of my favorite writings ever, a poem I even went to speech competition and monologued it (they said it was a poor choice for such a "common" poem as if that word could ever be applied to Poe, the uncultured fools). But it's this very line that won't shake from my head. It's hard to not think about it when some days, it's all I can feel: Weak and weary.
I don't believe it is any surprise as to the inspiration of today's poem. I don't know where you live but it is the dog days of summer here in Oklahoma, triple digits every day. Today is a high of 111F, not the "feels like" mind you, but actual Fahrenheit temperature.
No, I did not mistakenly add that comma. I am quoting myself (takes a lot of ego to do and admit that, right?) from the other day. I am at a new job, one that is what I dreamt for myself for years: a professional position working for some professional bosses that will lead me on a professional career (and has me dressed in professional business attire that make me feel like Pretty Woman walking down the street). Yes, there's a theme there, but anyway...
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me!" That's what they taught us to use as a quick response to bullying, more so name-calling and verbal teasing. I doubt this would be effective when placed in a headlock and enduring a noogie. Whenever I'd run tearfully to my parents after a sibling made a bullying poem about me (it actually was well made but at six this was not appreciated as of yet), my parents, tired from full time jobs and three kids, would say "sticks and stones, sweetie. Go back and say that to them."
July 6th, 1907 gave us one of the most influential artists ever to pick up a paintbrush. I hate to say it but until recently, I had always heard of the name Frida but not really know much about the surrealistic artist who left her brand on paint with what she considered not "dreams or nightmares" but her "own reality."