I have a question

I have a question.

You don’t have to answer it, or you may.

It’s the process of asking the question that really matters,

For when you hear your own question asked aloud

It gives a whole new sound to your query.

Here I go,

Asking questions.

Are you ready?

Yes? Or no?

Yes? No?

Yes?
Yes.

No?
No.
Yes.

What decisions flaunt themselves before me,
Begging to be taken.

I don’t know. Do you?

Can you help me?

Yes?

No?
No!

YES!

Or no?

NOOOO!

No.

Yes. Definitely yes.

No?

Yes? No? Yes? No? No? Yes?

See the question marks hang in the air like kite tails?

???

Yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, yes, no?

Yes?
No?

Hear the lilt to the uncertain voice,
The unmade choice that needs answering?

Yesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesno
yesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesno
yesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyes
noyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesnoyesno.

No?

Yes.

Yes?

Feel the tremble in unsteady hands,
Nervous with the idea of the future looming ahead?

No.

Yesno.

Yesnoyes.

Can’t see through the fog that dancing with
Slow, rolling limbs to unsung melody,
Blocking view of the next five minutes of time.

Yesnoyesno.

Decisions need to be made.

Now.

Noyesnoyesnoyesno.

Answer me!

…Maybe.

That’s what I thought.

Guilty pleasures of a [procrastinating] blogger

Long time no see.

No, I have not fallen from the face of the earth (though sometimes it feels like it).

Nor have I vanished into a wardrobe, tripped down a rabbit hole, or been summoned by a company of twelve dwarves to take part in an adventure (though sometimes I wish…).

So what have I been doing in the two weeks since I’ve last sat in front of my computer with an “Add New Post” tab open?

I’ve dreamed. Dressed up. Eaten chocolate. Pulled an all-nighter. Discussed the whos and whats and whys and hows of life. Read a few books. Recited a few Shakespearean sonnets. Thought about writing a poem about apples. Procrastinated writing a poem about apples. Designed tattoos I’ll never have. Watched some good movies, and some bad ones. Received hugs, and given them out. Stared into a misty glass ball, shouting questions about my future. Listened to Beethoven. Wrote lyrics for two songs. Freaked out, because what am I supposed to do with song lyrics? Realized how bad my singing actually is. Considered taking up a musical instrument. Went for walks beneath the buttery yellows and topaz oranges of the changing canopy of maple and aspen trees. Shared a poem with a group of people. Remembered why I love sharing poetry. Forgotten about this blog. Remembered that I have a blog, and forgotten why I have it.

I’ve wandered without purpose (hardly anything new), just enjoying the beauty of fall, the smell of the air. I’ve wanted to compress the taste of autumn air into a jelly, and spread it on homemade bread toasted over an open flame. I’ve painted a bit. I’ve painted my face, dressed in a delightfully corset-resembling dress, and became an injured circus performer, carrying around the broken pieces of my unicycle.

I’ve renewed my love of clothing with near-violent passion. Influenced by the glamour and edge of the fifties, mixed with the fright of Halloween and a touch of just-for-the-heck-of-it. Wished I wasn’t so tall so I could wear heels (but that would look extraordinarily out of place in the community where rainbow rubber boots are the coolest footwear). Jeans look fantastic on everyone. Took some pictures. Immersed myself in the music from the Chronicles of Narnia films. Considered making my own movie.

I haven’t missed my characters. I’ve thought about them, briefly, just long enough to add something to their personality or add an action to my mental list of their story. I’ve thought about words and how abused and neglected they are. I’ve thought about windchimes. They’re beautiful, aren’t they? Silver and dancing and ringing. I’ve thought about elephants and oliphants and elves and dwarves and Disney movies and handsome princes (and even more handsome pirates).

But I’m back now, I think.

~~~

Links for the pleasure-seeking Internet user with nothing better to do:

• KILLER STYLE: Cinema’s Most Stylish Villains
• Interesting Facts (wow your family with this seemingly all-powerful knowledge)
• My Daguerrotype Boyfriend (methinks this is humourous)
• Tim Hawkins – My Favourite Bible Verse (this is funny, and it’s not just me)
• Horrible Histories – Royal Messenger 
• Forests A Little More Enchanted
• Videos – The Hobbit Blog (for those interested in film production, and/or to soothe that Tolkien itch — only a month and a half to go!)

Let them grumble!

A Few Reasons Why Time Travel Wouldn’t Work

Often times I think to myself, “I wish I could have seen Anne Boleyn’s coronation,” or “Wouldn’t it be grand to go back in time and attend an Inkling meeting?” or “I yearn to see the Allahakberries play cricket!”

It is times like these when I wish I had a time machine. Things in the past often seem brighter and more glamorous than the present, and experiencing iconic history is something I’ve dreamed of for … ever.

Knowing that I can’t will sometimes make me a bit blue, and to counter these bouts of born-in-the-wrong-century-depression I’ve come up with a list as to why time travel would not be a good thing:

Traditionally, the time machine only transports the user back in time, but doesn’t alter their location (for this to happen it would have to be a dual time travel and teleporter.) Even if I could get my hands on a time machine, I’d have to travel to England first, and take it with me… And I really, really doubt a time machine would get through customs easily.

Time travel would come with the power of altering history. What if I accidentally destroyed Lewis and Tolkien’s friendship with a stupid comment from the future? Would The Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia still be written? Would Lewis still broadcast hope to the world during WWII? What if, at Anne’s coronation, Henry caught my eye and made me become his mistress, and I was responsible for Anne’s execution by replacing her and Jane Seymour? What if I cheered so loud for little J.M. Barrie that he didn’t pay attention and the cricket ball hit him in the head and he died? These are not good things.

What if I died? Going back in time, especially to Tudor England, would have its health disadvantages. Plague, sweating sickness, lack of antibiotics, heads rolling everywhere… If I died during my time travel, what would happen? Would I die in this world, too? Would I never be born? Would my death just result in being thrown back into the present?

[What is Libby going on about?]

Taken from the FB page ’Living to Read Fantasy.’

History could be different from what I thought. Maybe Anne Boleyn really was a home wrecker instead of the independent woman I’ve come to know and love. Maybe Tolkien was rude and pompous. Maybe Christopher Robin hated his father, A.A. Milne, for basing a lovable children’s character off of him. Maybe Cromwell had nothing to do with Anne’s execution. Would these ruin my perceptions of these people? Would I hate myself for allowing this to happen?

How could I get back? Logically, you have to be with the time machine to use it. It can’t be remotely operated, so you’d have to bring the machine with you back in time, plus keep it a secret. Can you imagine if Henry VIII was accidentally transported to my home? Or worse, 1970s New York? 

[That's it. She's having eternal tea time with the Mad Hatter.]

The government. If they found out, they’d probably lock me up and use the time machine to stop awful national tragedies from occurring. Which, don’t get me wrong, is not a bad thing. But remember what I said about changing history? WWI and II are now part of our very identities as North Americans. Who would we be without it?

Money. Again with the secret thing. You could make big bucks from this machine. Do you know how many people would want to go back in time to go to an Elvis concert or shake Kennedy’s hand? Or kill Bush? Or stop rap music from happening? Or to prevent the heartbreak of a high school sweetheart? Millions. Billions. You cannot have that many people zipping back and forth in time.

Alternate realities. If you changed something in history, would that just be creating an alternate reality? A dimension where you were married to a man you didn’t love, and a dimension where you were married to your true love? You wouldn’t be aware of the you that was happily wed. As far as you’re concerned, your life would still suck. Granted, you would be happy in some reality… Would you be aware of your attempt to fix your life? Would you just think you failed, or are you fixing the dimension you’re in and sending another you into the world that’s less than daisies and roses?

Now my head is just starting to hurt. Time for some turkey. And gravy. Lots and lots of gravy.

[If you read this whole post in all its ridiculousness, you and I must be kindred spirits or you must have nothing better to do on Thanksgiving weekend. I'm thankful for you!]

Photo taken from aliendescendant.blogspot.ca

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

being tongue-tied…

mind overflowing, a reservoir swelling

spilling

no control, no holding back — let it come

words jumbled

ideas rampant

dreams floating, popping, expanding

all too fast for phrases or sentences

too wild for the constraints of the paragraph

flinging like the dancing peaks of a heart monitor

painting with the grace and joy and confusion of a child’s first masterpiece

illegible, unintelligible, unreadable, incomprehensible

but never meaningless

ink leaking, spreading, growing

a mess, blue and black and red running, mixing,

morphing into an impossibly breath-stealing creature

of its own making

glowing, changing, beauty in itself,

a mountain landscape at dusk, the silhouetted forest at dawn

the sigh of briny marshlands

a blink of a shooting star

fleeting, memorable, impacting, true

immortal

you could have never set out to make this

being tongue-tied, it seems

is the secret to accidental genius.

It’s A Beautiful Day In The Neighbourhood

“It’s a beautiful day in the neighbourhood!”

This is how our minister usually begins the Sunday service, and every time I can’t help but recall the beloved Mr. Rogers of my childhood.

And it is a lovely day. T-shirt weather. In Nova Scotia. In March. Pigs might be able to fly after all…

So, I profusely apologize for my lackluster blogging over the past few days, but if it’s not a beautiful day in your neighbourhood, here’s some of my previous, favourite posts to pass the time away.

• “Run, Sherlock!” shouted Pooh.
• Life is short — and so is hair! (I don’t know if that linked properly or not. www.letthemgrumble.wordpress.com/life-is-short-and-so-is-hair )
• Sing a Song of Sixpence

Also, Robert Parry is doing a giveaway of his book, “The Arrow Chest.” Enter here!

Off I bound to enter a world of my own imagining!

And The Lucky Winner Is…

After nearly 100 comments on Claire’s guest post and over 40 new followers, my lovely sister randomly chose the winner of a signed copy of Claire’s book and a pair of stunning Tudor earrings a from a very large pool of names/emails.

And the winner is……

 **drumroll**

Holly Robertson!

Congratulations, Holly! Could you please email me (libby.maire@gmail.com) your shipping address within a couple of days? I’ll forward your address to Claire so she can send you your lovely prizes!

~~~

In case you haven’t heard, instead of celebrating March Madness, The Creation of Anne Boleyn Facebook Page and the Semper Eadem blog are hosting a Tudor Tournament, where your favourite Tudor heroines (Anne Boleyn), villans (Thomas Cromwell), and heart-throb bad-boys (Thomas Seymour) will go head-to-head in what promises to be a bloodbath of wits. See the rather impressive bracket! My favourite match-up is Cat of Aragon vs. Philip of Spain!

Some Housekeeping

I apologize if you’ve been recently inundated with emails from me. My blog had a bit of a spaz with a new feature, but I think it’s under control now. However, after that wrestle with technology I’m really not in the mood to write a proper post.

Happy March 1^st and congratulations on making it to springtime-portal month. Only 20 days of winter (officially) left. Yay! Onward with the black flies!

I (along with Huzzah from There’s Something Bigger Out There) have taken up the challenge of writing a novel in two months for a competition. I honestly doubt it will happen, but you never know. Thus I’ll probably be blogging a bit less.

Update on Claire Ridgway’s virtual book tour: Claire will be guest posting about Anne Boleyn on March 6^th and she’ll be giving away a signed copy of her book The Anne Boleyn Collection, as well as a stunning replica of a pair of earrings Natalie Dormer wore in an episode of  “The Tudors.” To enter, leave a comment on Claire’s post. To enter twice, leave a comment on Claire’s post and subscribe to my blog. If I were you I would want to win! The AB Collection is wonderful, the best of the AB Files and more, and the earrings are beautiful.                      

Probably won’t be back till the weekend, so remember to let them grumble!

Meanwhile, back on the range (*hat-tip to Lemony Snicket*) here’s a fun and flirty post about “The Château Vert” of Shrove Tuesday March 1^st, 1522, starring a 21-year-old Anne Boleyn, a dashing Henry VIII, and some courtly romance!