Adventures of the Tea-Sippers

OR the Mostly True Recordings of Our Lives in College

Chapter the First

The following records the many and varied pursuits of the Tea-Sippers: a sisterhood formed by their mutual fondness of strong tea, off brand cookies, and intelligent discourse. Intelligent here being: conversation pertaining to the higher things of life (in addition, British witticisms and abstruse references were never disdained). These young women found themselves gathering together in the evenings when the need for tea and conversation grew strong. Their members were constantly changing, they grew in number and in friendship, but their foundational ties remained the same. It was a tie of kinship, of like souls finding like souls, and thus, the Tea-Sippers had found their beginning.

Polly had not been there for the first tea party. Indeed, she did not meet the Tea-Sippers till well nigh her second week of college. She would hear tell of that fateful night when the first tea party was held with a mixture of awe and longing. It had been the founding of a nation, that moment when the six girls first clinked cups. They were the Founding Mothers, and in their wake came the girls of the new nation. They were the Austenites, the novel writers, the tea snobs, the observers of mankind. They took the events of their days, their interactions and conversations, and regaled each other with these in manners of humor or pathos.

For Polly the days before the Tea-Sippers blurred together as an endless string of unfamiliar faces and events. In those days a few events took place that would later stand out to her as the formation upon which her future life at college would depend. One of these events was her introduction to Shirley.

The first thing Polly noticed about Shirley was her book-bag. It was a book-bag of the finest sort, crafted of canvas and upon it was written the title of that much beloved book, Pride and Prejudice. Polly had known from the moment she had first seen that book-bag she was destined to be friends with it's owner. The only question in her mind was how to bring about this friendship. It became a matter of much contemplation, scheming and plotting. Thus, when Polly found herself standing behind Shirley in the lunch-line one fine day, she felt as pleased with herself as if she had caused this encounter. 

Now all I have to do is say hello, and voila! Polly thought happily. She stood behind Shirley a few minutes longer, trying to sort out just what she wanted to say.

"So...you like Pride and Prejudice, eh? Me too!" Polly turned the sentence about in her head and then came to the conclusion that it wouldn't do at all. Lots of people like Pride and Prejudice, Polly. You're not unique in doing so. She mentally shook herself and then tried to think of a new conversation starter. 

"Nice day for lunch?"

"Hello, I'm Polly, we're destined to be friends because I like your book-bag?"

"HELLO. BE MY FRIEND?!"

Polly had just decided to take a normal approach and casually compliment Shirley (oblivious to the mental torture of the girl behind her) on her book-bag, but just then she heard "Hey, nice book-bag!" and turned to see someone had stolen her thunder.

"Nuts." Polly whispered to herself.
This failed attempt at conversation turned out to be much less of a catastrophe than Polly might have supposed, for, as is often the case, when people are meant to be friends, somehow, someway, they will be brought together. However, Polly had very little time for contemplating this interesting subject, because the next day school began. 

Before we proceed with this story I must first tell you something of Polly. Polly may be sweet, perhaps even endearing, but she was without a doubt a trifle scatterbrained. Another thing to note about Polly is that she is quite clumsy and accident prone (but that is a story for another day). So it won't surprise you in the least when I tell you of Polly's first class. Polly's first class was English. Knowing herself well, she had intentionally arrived to her class ten minutes beforehand (giving herself time in case she tripped, slipped, or died along the way.) As it turned out this was a most necessary precaution. 

Polly looked around the classroom feeling quite proud of herself. She had safely arrived, found an empty seat and laid out her books on her desk. Now she could relax. It was then that she began to notice something about the people in the room. It was all a bit puzzling. Hm, there's a lot of upperclassmen in my English 101 class. Polly mused to herself. She turned around in her seat and listened to a conversation at the desk behind her. I didn't bring the books they're talking about. She noted, and sat for a few more minutes staring at the Junior girl in the seat behind her.

"This isn't my English 101 class, is it?" Polly finally asked, her voice resigned. 

The answer was, as she suspected, "no, this is not your English 101 class, dear."

Poor Polly was in a bit of a fluster when she finally found her seat in her proper classroom. It had been a rather busy morning. She leaned over to take her notebooks from her bag- that was when she noticed that much esteemed canvas bag with the words Pride and Prejudice. She turned around and saw that the girl who had just taken the seat next to her was Shirley.

To be continued...

Perfect, beautiful days

There are those days that impress themselves on your memory as perfect days. It's been such a long time since I've sat down to write a proper sort of blog post that I don't know how else to begin this one. The past couple weeks have had their ups and downs for me, but then, I think that must be how everyone feels as they settle in for their first month in college. There have been moments of feeling lost, scared- feelings that everyone experiences.

Then again, there have been days like today; perfect, beautiful days. Days that are beautiful in their very simplicity, it almost doesn't feel adequate putting them into words. I always feel like that when I try to describe my perfect days. I suppose it's because they aren't the days filled with color and excitement, they're the days where the background is an underlying feeling of serenity and peace. Soft, fall colors, an undercurrent of sparkling light, but mostly a running stream of contentment where all the world feels right.

It's so lovely to be in a place that feels so very right. I miss home of course, I miss my dear ones, but if I'm to be anyplace- I'm glad it's here.

Today has been lovely because we went for a drive. A drive through the rolling hills of Virginia. A drive with the rain drizzling gently against the windows and the Fall leaves just beginning to fall. A drive to the dearest little coffee place. Quaint is the word that comes to my mind when I try to describe it. I think the loveliest thing about it was the smell of the coffee as we stepped outside of the car. Coffee has the best smell, and as we walked in the door it just grew better. It also helped that I was in the company of some of the dearest dears, really, the day was quite perfect.

Forgive my gushing, there really isn't anything else to be said.

I'm thinking...

There's a reason my favorite hour of the day is those hours just before I fall asleep. Those are my thinking hours. My hours of quiet. My hours to lie on my back and think of nothing or everything at once. Sometimes I find myself just staring off into the dark for hours at a time, thinking serious thoughts. Not serious in the unpleasant sense, on the contrary they are quite peaceful thoughts. They are serious in the contemplative sense. I like to think about people. How we all relate to each other. How our lives intersect in this complex pattern; like threads weaving together in a rug. I know that's a metaphor that's probably been used a lot, but it's interesting to think about isn't it? All those threads twisting together, all those lives that we affect and that affect us. Most of the time we look at the world from a rather self centered perspective. Even if we are considering someone else's feelings it is always from our own point of view. It's inevitable. We all approach things with different backgrounds, with different thoughts to build upon, there is no way to be completely unbiased. I just find it interesting to think about how all the other people in my life are feeling or acting when I'm not around them. Recently my brother said something about how someone acted more maturely around me. I remember that exact thought used to bother me about a year ago. I would wonder if people were merely mirroring what I was trying to be. I guess I was worried that I was seeing what I wanted to see rather than who people really were. Last night I was thinking about it again and I realized that it wasn't such a bad thing after all. I hope I have that affect on people. I hope that by being kind and thoughtful people will see something they want to be too. If they see me as mature, it will be something they will want to imitate. I want to be a positive influence. How people act around us is not so much "seeing a false side" as seeing the affect of our words and actions. It really makes you think about the impact of our presence. How do we make others feel? All interactions are about some give and take. Careless words uttered, negatively received, responded to in like, ending emotion unhappiness. Or it could be the other way completely. It's really interesting to think about. There's just so much to think about. Human relations. Human interactions. How our presence affects people. Or vise versa.

I'm creating...

I think perhaps this prompt would be better suited for today it were instead "something I'm working on." Because if it were that I would respond that I'm addressing my graduation announcements. It really isn't very creative, but it is the project I am currently working on. So that it was I'm putting down.

I'm wearing...

A dress with grey and black stripes, boots and my necklace with the Pride and Prejudice quote.

I'm reading...

Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief. Apparently it is a "classic of my generation" so I must read it. So I am. Also my brothers are very excited about my reading it.

Outside my window...

The clouds are really pretty today. I like watching them drift, it's really relaxing. They move so slowly, as if they knew the wind was propelling them ever forwards, but intended to take their time and enjoy the trip.

I'm listening to...

The washing machine whirl on it's last run. Or at least until that cycle is done and the next must be loaded.

One of my favorite things...

The feeling I had last night. My family all together. The little ones sleeping upstairs. My Mom and Dad sitting on one side of me. My brothers Marcus and Eli sitting on the other side. Warm and comfortable, curled up in a blanket. It was one of the best feelings in all the world.

I'm thinking...

Well, I've been talking quite a bit about Much Ado About Nothing the past couple weeks- but it's been a prominent part of my life so there seems no way around talking about it. (Of course, I like talking about it. So there is that) I was thinking though, how much better I understand the play after watching it over and over again. I had seen the movie adaption, but even so I think I only caught the most obvious lines. I think most Shakespeare plays are like that. You have to watch them several times over before you begin to catch on to all the lines. Well, I suppose most things are like that. The more times you watch or read something the more you get out of it.
I'm really proud of everyone who is taking part in our play. I think they've all done excellent jobs bringing out the characters. That's something else I find funny about plays, so much of it is about the personal interpretation. I find it so interesting to see how different people interpret the characters. Also, I find it really interesting how people act. It's something I didn't think too much about before starting this play, but there's so many different ways to act. Some people become the character. You can see them become the character, and then the minute the scene is over they go back to being themselves. Other people make the character like themselves. They never stop being like themselves, but simply use their characters words and actions as their own. 

I'm reading...

Arabella by Georgette Heyer. I always feel like reading books over again after I lend them to someone. I love recommending and lending books. I think it's one of the best things in the world. That's another reason why I want to be well read in all sorts of books. So if ever someone came up and asked, "do you know a funny non fiction book?" I would say "Try A.J. Jacobs' books." or "What would you recommend from the YA section?" "Cinder, Entwined, The Fairytale Novels,  The Fault in Our Stars, Paper Towns..." or "What mysteries do you like?" "Agatha Christie, Father Brown, Sherlock Holmes, but mostly Agatha Christie." (obviously I really want to be a Librarian)

Outside my window...

It's a cloudy day.

I'm wearing...

Jeans and a blouse. Also my TARDIS necklace.

I'm listening to...

A Michael Buble song just came on Pandora.

From the Kitchen...

I haven't made bread in a while. I should start doing that again. I love making bread.

I'm creating...

I was looking through some of my old stories again last night. It's funny looking back at things you wrote a long time ago, some things you find simply terrible, and then other things you're surprised with and like. Reading over my old things always makes me want to rewrite them.

Happy Birthday!

I would like to take a moment to say Happy Birthday to my dear friend Kieran. This is a birthday post for her. So Kieran, if you're reading this, Happy Birthday to you.

You're such a dear, sweet, lovely person, and I'm so thankful for you. I'm thankful for all of those memories from when we were little girls. I'm thankful for tea parties, dress-up, and prancing about the house. Do you remember composing poetry on the way up to the tulip fields? I think I might still have a couple sheets of paper that we were rhyming on. Then there was WYD. We had such different experiences; when we talk about memories there are so many different things we remember, and yet we intersected in and out of each other's memories. You were always there. That's what my hope is for our college years and beyond. It makes me so happy to know that while we're going to different places, the places we've chosen are very similar. The adventure we're starting out on is essentially the same. Our experiences throughout college are going to be very different, but our lives will still be intersecting. I hope you know I'll always be there. I'm so excited for you.

It's strange to think that we're both eighteen now. Just a couple more weeks and we'll both be graduating. Our last year of High School, and homeschool will be done. You've been my friend since before I can remember, and you will always be one of my very dearest, dearest friends.

Happy Birthday!

Howl's Moving Castle

By Diana Wynne Jones

5/5

(By the by the above cover is not the cover of the copy I read. That cover was an atrocity. I refuse to have such an eyesore on my blog. Thus my reasoning in finding a picture of another copy's cover.)

I can't believe I haven't read this book before now! I knew from the very first page it was just the sort of book I would fall in love with. I love twists on fairytales.

"...It is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three. Everyone knows you are the one who will fail first, and worst, if the three of you set out to seek your fortunes. Sophie Hatter was the eldest of three sisters. She was not even the child of a poor woodcutter, which might have given her some chance of success."

See what I mean? As soon as I had read that paragraph I knew that this was a book that would find a place in my heart. I grinned manically at the page muttering in Captain America form "I understood that reference." This book was referencing my childhood. My childhood of fairytales. This was a good book. I knew this already- and I was only on the first page.

The rest of the book did not disappoint. Howl was hilarious. I was actually giggling out loud. There's something so endearing about Howl, even when he's sulking like a child. Actually, perhaps that's what I found the funniest. Sophie waggling her finger and nosing around the castle, and Howl putting up a fuss and telling her to stop cleaning everything she touched. The way he's described sulking and then suddenly flashing a smile at her and prancing off! Goodness gracious.

Actually, I loved all the characters. Michael is such a sweetheart and Calcifer is interesting to say the least, dear Sophie, and of course Howl.

There was only one chapter that I felt was a little bit drawn out, but other than that it was entirely and utterly enjoyable. It reminded me of Patricia C. Wrede and I do, do love her books. I have the other two books in the Howl's Moving Castle series on my nightstand (at least I think it's a series? Perhaps they're only connected in some form rather than being a series.) Anyhow, I'm very excited to read them both. I think there's also an animated film of some sort? I haven't seen it, but I know several people who have and like it a lot. I'll have to find it.

If you haven't read Howl's Moving Castle you really should find it. (Try to find the copy without the atrocious cover. As I said, monstrosity.) It's funny, has enough fairytale in it to warm your heart, and is just all round adorable. That is all.

Matched

By Ally Condie

4/5

 

I think this is the first book I've read where I've found myself appreciating first person present tense. I was reading book reviews about Matched before I picked it up myself and I kept hearing the same things "beautiful writing" "like poetry" (paraphrasing) so that was something I was paying close attention to from the very beginning, and I would have to say I agree. I still dislike first person present tense as a writing style for the majority of the time but I think in this instance it worked. Especially when we look at the plot it went along with. It somehow fit the storyline and made the whole thing flow. It did remind me of poetry, very drifting and musical, feeding you the characters emotions through words that dwelled on the way the silky green dress felt and the way the lingering dirt on a rock looked. Most YA fiction is very plot driven so the writing style to this book made me happy. Not that I have anything against plot driven books, but it's refreshing to see books like this making an appearance.

 

( I guess part of the reason that I've been reading more YA fiction these days is because I'm a writer. I want to publish my own books someday. It feels a bit one sided, if that makes sense, to be dreaming of publishing my stories and hoping to have them read, when I have hardly read any of current titles. It's also been really interesting, and I've found quite a few of them that I've enjoyed. Plus, it's fun to review YA. There's always plenty to talk about. You have things that you really enjoyed and things that you really disliked. It's no fun to talk about a book that you found nothing to dislike in. You end up just repeating "I just really loved it. You really ought to read." This got a bit off topic but I was really just going to say that as a writer I really enjoyed the writing style in Matched. Bravo, Ally Condie, and I approve of all the book reviews I've read commenting on the writing.)

 

Can I just say that all dystopian novels that I've read have had the same affect on me? I end up walking away feeling very, very thankful. Sure, there's a lot of problems in our world today, but lets take a moment to count our blessings, shall we? Yes, we still have cancer, but would we want to live in Matched where the government is saying who you should marry to ensure good genes matching with good genes leading to a population of perfectly healthy people and thus eliminating cancer? Sure, there's a problem with over eating and under eating, but just take a moment to feel thankful that you know the taste of deliciously baked food, and that your diet isn't being overseen and restricted to the perfect amount of calories. Sure, there are rotten books and music out there, but gosh am I thankful there are if it means that we have an equal amount of GOOD books and GOOD music being created. Would we want to live in a world with just one hundred books and one hundred songs and no creating of anything new? I say long live that rotten paperback being sold at the grocery store if that means a book as good as that one is bad is being written at the same time!

 

Also, I think Matched presents a very good example of what happens when we lose our value for human life. In this story the government sets a year that you get to live to (I think it's eighty) and you get to live till that birthday- and then they kill you. They say it's eliminating all the horrors of old age, sickness and dementia etc. YOU SEE WHERE I'M GOING? It's a very slippery slope, people. First we convince ourselves that abortion is okay, suddenly we're saying it's okay to say "hey, you've reached your eightieth birthday, that's it. Done. Over." Where's the line? /Pro-Life speech for the day.

 

I will say I found the love triangle a bit annoying. I mean, it was better than most. It actually had a point to it, which most love triangles don't, but why are you playing with my emotions like that, book? I don't need this right now. I always, always end up feeling sorry for the poor little third corner of the triangle even if I originally liked the second corner better. Pet peeve = love triangles.

 

On another note, I would like to mention that there was nothing holding me back from recommending it wholeheartedly. No violence etc. (unique in the dystopian genre...) I wouldn't say it's my favorite book of all time, but it's won honorable mention on my list.