a reflection of a curious specimen
I have a habit - one considered a fault - of gazing into reflective surfaces whenever such happens across my sight. It is vanity, curiousity and a need to assure myself of my existence. I can never remember the way I look. Is it strange? I may call up an image of a friend in my mind, but to me my own image is always novel, something that I can't quite picture, yet it is there. Me. How sensational a thought! That the shell I dwell in, from whence I commence my movements, share my passions, and dictate thought - how gawky it looks, how like a child - and yet more of a woman than many others... I cannot agree with it more, or less. It has become like me - yet imperfect.
Today, as I was reading Villette, I noted the fact that how these writers note persons so well, and from their face can glean true glimpses into their natures. And I saw myself as I was entering a Watsons. I often surprise myself with my own image. I noted her face, and it was pale, round as the moon, weary, and yet such a queer mien! Of all the faces I noted on the way to the store, not one had such sullenness, such defiance, such as would anger those who wish to dictate - and indeed I have sometimes wondered why that I of all people most often incur the wrath and vexation of the most despotic teachers, though I believe I conduct myself quietly enough, and within the boundaries of common rules (unreasonable ones I invariably ignor).
Those eyes, which stared at me boldly, though a little resentfully, were full of challenge. These were not the eyes of one who could submit, but one who actively seeked to question all that were laid before her. They were not wide, long-fringed - of a innocent doe seeking shelter, such as those set in slight females which men in my country covet. Mine were worldly, pained, and held a curious compassion. Most of all they spoke of independence - this could win no favor in those men mentioned.
Pride was written clearly on the contours of my jaw and mouth. Pride and stupidity. Of the forehead there was a sad deficiency of genius, though of lay fancy was given a generous portion.
My gait - ah, that which I had ever thought horribly awkward, showed pride and clumsiness, carelessness and sobriety. I often observe my own shadow cutting across the sidewalk before me with the most unholy interest (for is it not unholy to be so self-obsessed?) and noted it's sense of purpose, also it's tendency to wander. I am often attracted by things I find beautiful. The light filtering through a grove of trees, rusty bars on a milk-white window, a shimmery green beatle wandering about, a she-dog purposefully trotting to some destination that holds import only to her, the ankle of a classmate, how a pigeon, in it's carriage and attitude, is so different from that of a bee. They were made with the same hand, guided to life by the same God. What greatness He holds, to give such a variety of beauty and personality to each and every species!
I never seemed to know myself. My bearing and contours were always a great mystery to me. But today I saw so much more of me than I could say in one simple essay. So much more of who I was, the person I had become through my years, shone transparent through that otherwise bland face.
I loved her. She was all my glory and weaknesses melded into one person. Looking back at baby pictures, featuring a plump, naked child with rather large eyes, pouting lips, and a generally odd air, I seem so different! If another soul with a different temperament dwelt in my body, perhaps I would not look the way I do now. She was decidedly, who I had chosen to be. There is truth in looking in a face, however formed at birth, truth is written in it.
In this respect, at least, I am glad of being true to myself.
Random Vocabulary:
Mendacity
The condition of being mendacious; untruthfulness.
A lie; a falsehood.
Mordant
Bitingly sarcastic: mordant satire.
Incisive and trenchant: an inquisitor's mordant questioning.
Bitingly painful.
Serving to fix colors in dyeing.
Pecuniary
Of or relating to money: a pecuniary loss; pecuniary motives.
Requiring payment of money: a pecuniary offense.
Today, as I was reading Villette, I noted the fact that how these writers note persons so well, and from their face can glean true glimpses into their natures. And I saw myself as I was entering a Watsons. I often surprise myself with my own image. I noted her face, and it was pale, round as the moon, weary, and yet such a queer mien! Of all the faces I noted on the way to the store, not one had such sullenness, such defiance, such as would anger those who wish to dictate - and indeed I have sometimes wondered why that I of all people most often incur the wrath and vexation of the most despotic teachers, though I believe I conduct myself quietly enough, and within the boundaries of common rules (unreasonable ones I invariably ignor).
Those eyes, which stared at me boldly, though a little resentfully, were full of challenge. These were not the eyes of one who could submit, but one who actively seeked to question all that were laid before her. They were not wide, long-fringed - of a innocent doe seeking shelter, such as those set in slight females which men in my country covet. Mine were worldly, pained, and held a curious compassion. Most of all they spoke of independence - this could win no favor in those men mentioned.
Pride was written clearly on the contours of my jaw and mouth. Pride and stupidity. Of the forehead there was a sad deficiency of genius, though of lay fancy was given a generous portion.
My gait - ah, that which I had ever thought horribly awkward, showed pride and clumsiness, carelessness and sobriety. I often observe my own shadow cutting across the sidewalk before me with the most unholy interest (for is it not unholy to be so self-obsessed?) and noted it's sense of purpose, also it's tendency to wander. I am often attracted by things I find beautiful. The light filtering through a grove of trees, rusty bars on a milk-white window, a shimmery green beatle wandering about, a she-dog purposefully trotting to some destination that holds import only to her, the ankle of a classmate, how a pigeon, in it's carriage and attitude, is so different from that of a bee. They were made with the same hand, guided to life by the same God. What greatness He holds, to give such a variety of beauty and personality to each and every species!
I never seemed to know myself. My bearing and contours were always a great mystery to me. But today I saw so much more of me than I could say in one simple essay. So much more of who I was, the person I had become through my years, shone transparent through that otherwise bland face.
I loved her. She was all my glory and weaknesses melded into one person. Looking back at baby pictures, featuring a plump, naked child with rather large eyes, pouting lips, and a generally odd air, I seem so different! If another soul with a different temperament dwelt in my body, perhaps I would not look the way I do now. She was decidedly, who I had chosen to be. There is truth in looking in a face, however formed at birth, truth is written in it.
In this respect, at least, I am glad of being true to myself.
Random Vocabulary:
Mendacity
The condition of being mendacious; untruthfulness.
A lie; a falsehood.
Mordant
Bitingly sarcastic: mordant satire.
Incisive and trenchant: an inquisitor's mordant questioning.
Bitingly painful.
Serving to fix colors in dyeing.
Pecuniary
Of or relating to money: a pecuniary loss; pecuniary motives.
Requiring payment of money: a pecuniary offense.
posted by Mignon Chang at 6:19 PM
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