Just thought I’d drop you all a line or two from my half-baked journey through Mrs. Dalloway:

“No crime; love; he repeated, fumbling for his card and pencil, when a Skye terrier snuffed his trousers and he started in an agony of fear. It was turning into a man! He could not watch it happen!

Heaven was divinely merciful, infinitely benignant. It spared him, pardoned his weaknesses. But what was the scientific explanation (for one must be scientific above all things)? Why could he see through bodies, see into the future, when dogs will become men?”

I love this part that illustrates Septimus Warren Smith’s psychosis. I can just picture it- sometimes strange, vivid images make their way into my head too, because I stare off into space a lot (even when I’m on the move and walking)- and it’s quite a nice feeling to read it off somewhere other than my own mind. I imagine these things in great detail as well so I can get pretty lost in them.

On a related note, I remember something I read in one of those Sweet Valley books. I know that Mrs. Dalloway cannot be compared to the Sweet Valley series (yes I used to be a fan) so it’s rather odd that I bring SV up here (heehee) but there’s an element of this story that I really liked. Jessica and Elizabeth were transported to a magical faraway land, where, if you could imagine in great detail an object you wanted, wish for it very intensely, *poof* it would materialise.

For example, if you wanted a gorgeous evening gown. You had to imagine the front, the back, every stitch, every fold, before it would appear before you. Perfect, isn’t it? (:

So instead of telling your boyfriend, “I bought this for you”, you can say to him, “I imagined this up for you. It took me a whole day and 4 shots of caffeine beforehand.” Wouldn’t that be awesome? Compare THAT to some mass-produced gift that a hundred thousand other people have!

I know it doesn’t seem like this is pertinent to Mrs. Dalloway at all, but it is! I marvel at the power of imagination. Especially that from an uncontrolled, uninhibited mind, one that crosses all borders of rationale and self-doubt and nurtured perception, like Septimus Warren Smith’s, and jumps, without rhyme or reason, from one thing to another. Well, technically it’s all from Virginia Woolf, I know. But gosh some imagery, when said with the right words, can be so vivid and so haunting (I don’t think I’ll look at dogs the same way for some time), it doesn’t really matter where it came from anymore.

I love how SW Smith is so confused, so torn between God and logic and his fears and his past, that he creates something so impossible and terrifying from something as innocent as a dog sniffing at his trousers.

I wonder how my mind would work if I go mad someday? Hmm. There’s something to think about. Heh. But of course I wouldn’t want that to happen!

Another thing to think about: Rezia, his wife! The worst thing about going mad, or Alzheimer’s, in fact, is the people you hurt and virtually leave behind because you cannot recognise them or love them the same way you did any longer. Yet these people, devastated as they are, stay so faithfully by your side, without a chance of receiving any acknowledgment at all. True selflessness, that is. Sigh! Because, I confess, I think part of what motivates me to love is getting loved in return. Awesome feeling. That’s what I love about marriage vows! A promise to love and be loved. Powerful indeed.

Shucks it’s really late… 3.30 am. So much for resolving to turn in earlier! Good night!

P/S: I’m finally going to cook again….on Friday! Am gonna try out some mashed-potatoey potato soup with bacon bits. If it works out I shall post pictures heheh.

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