dual personalities

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

“Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allen Poe

Last weekend, I watched a Netflix teen romcom in which the male protagonist writes a Valentine’s Day card that plagiarizes Poe and replaces “Annabel Lee” with his girlfriend’s name, to great effect on the girlfriend. (“For the moon never beams…”) I screamed internally and then posted on Instagram about it, for two reasons: at first, I wasn’t sure if the guy would get away with it, but also, THIS POEM IS ABOUT DEATH? THE LOVER IS DEAD? IN A SEPULCHRE? BY THE SEA? It’s never seemed all that romantic to me.

But here’s the real anecdote: I know this poem well because in eighth grade, I memorized and recited it to my English class. Everyone had to choose a poem to recite, and I believe the requirement was that the poem had to be at least 8 lines long. Naturally, I went overboard, opting for Poe over Shel Silverstein and reciting something 5 times longer than required. I really can’t imagine what my teacher (or fellow students) must have thought while I recited lines about highborn kinsmen and envious angels and severed souls. But I remember feeling very proud of myself and truly loving the poem. It’s funny how certain memories are so persistent, and reciting this poem is one of those standouts.

Painting is “Moonlight” (1892) by Childe Hassam

Mostly, I think we’d all agree the internet is a terrible place–but sometimes it does produce something that amuses me. Often, when I’m scrolling through my instagram explore tab, I’ll save things that are funny or that I want to remember later. Since my mother dearest did such a swell job recapping our fun weekend and I haven’t had any good work stories (other than visiting a school named “Rivendale” on “Elfindale Ave” in Springfield), I decided to screengrab some of my favorite saved things from the internet. As you’ll see below, I’m a person of many layers. Or maybe just two…

The sexy Ned Flanders will never not make me laugh.

One final thing, last week, I heard this song on the radio–I’d never heard it before–but it really spoke to me (insert the crying laughing emoji).

After a rather hellish week at work, this weekend provided a welcome refresh. A long chat with my mom, a delicious dinner (crab cakes!) at DN’s parents’, a mani-pedi with a friend… topped off by sheet-pan nachos on Sunday afternoon. Sometimes, simple pleasures go a very long way!

We also managed to complete some small tasks that make a big difference in the apartment.

DN framed this oddly-sized poster that we got from the Ryman on our trip to Nashville in December — one of those projects that takes a long while because there are lots of pesky steps along the way. Ordering custom wood pieces, getting glass cut, MacGyvering a back… he got it done! We love it. As always, it’s very hard to photograph all the beige interiors in this apartment, but I provided the hallway shot for some perspective. And if you look really closely, you can see that DN also successfully anchored our stick vacuum’s wall mount. This feels surprisingly life-changing.

I have also been meaning to shoutout my father-in-law, who has finished a number of projects for us recently. We often take something over to his workshop so that DN can work on it, but then the task will be completed before we know it! This happened with the doors of my secretary, which needed new glass installed. And then this weekend, he revealed a bookshelf of mine that had been in desperate need of stripping and re-painting.

The bookshelf was a hand-me-down that I brought with me when I moved out here after college, and I had already DIY’d it once with spray-painted turquoise interiors (a very 2012 project). Well, with a fresh coat of glossy gray from the workshop’s surplus paint stash, it can withstand the elements and will be dressed up with plants and whatnot later this spring. A functional piece for our balcony deck!

Now, to embrace another Monday!

If only I had Gromit’s ingenuity and coordination, I’d be able to navigate through obstacles AND have something worthwhile to write about. Alas, this week I cannot pause to reflect.

I’ll catch up with you next Saturday and hopefully by then I’ll have something to say!

In the meantime, have a relaxing weekend!

Boy, the work week has already taken the wind out of my sails. I have been very productive, which is nice, but there have been a number of encounters that have just truly grated on my nerves. Ugh. The weekend and our visit to the art museum feels very far away right now. But I’ll try my best to recall my thoughts…

Overall, I am not the biggest Hopper fan. The exhibit was well-curated — I particularly liked the inclusion of other artists who were contemporaries or influenced by Hopper — and it was interesting to peruse, even if the vibe is not my favorite. I was struck by the narrative behind the hotel paintings: Hopper and his wife were avid road-trippers, and would spend weeks on the road. Apparently, Hopper always drove and his wife always recorded the journey. (She kept a journal and wrote correspondence — I use Instagram, but I do send postcards, too.) In that sense, we could relate!

A postcard from their visit to St. Louis

However, I couldn’t help but wonder: did they enjoy themselves? The subjects Hopper paints are always isolated, introspective (if not downright melancholy) and in various states of undress (vulnerable, I suppose). Where’s the fun of a road trip with your wife, there?

“Hotel Room,” 1931

DN did notice that his watercolors in Mexico were punchier and more colorful. So maybe it was just the U.S. that depressed him.

“Church of San Esteban,” 1946

I was struck by how much I preferred the below painting by John Singer Sargent, which also depicts a hotel room. It’s nearly iridescent!

“A Hotel Room,” 1907

One of my favorite classes in college was an Introduction to Comparative Arts course, and it was in that class that I felt like I learned how to go to an art museum. The professor (who recently died, I was sad to hear) certainly expected us to talk about paintings with some attempt at a critical eye. Someone was always ready to talk about how the “intersecting lines represented constraint but they also traveled outside the frame, representing freedom,” or whatever. But she also always asked us, of any given piece of art: “Would you hang it up in your house?” Now, in that class, the taste of many students was such that perhaps they wanted the intersecting lines of constraint and freedom hanging above their mantle. But being asked the question made me think liking something counted as a critical approach to art. Or at least the start to one.

As you might guess, I’d rather hang up something like Sargent’s painting over many of Hopper’s. But that’s just my taste.