Virtuous (?) Vikings

Currently I am enrolled in a class called The Vikings, which I signed up for because 1. I heard the class was easy, and 2. I am taking my senior seminar at the same time and need to focus on that paper. I did not sign up because I was interested in old men who raped and pillaged and burned monasteries. But the Vikings, as I soon learned, had much more to them than what we see in popular culture. The Vikings didn't just sail the high seas - they had an active role in government at home. They valued family above all else. They invented a rhythmic and metaphorical form of poetry, and told heroic stories about the quest for good over evil. The Vikings didn't even wear the scary horned helmets that we imagine they did. But what struck me most of all is the fact that the Vikings were wise. Here are a few of my favorite sayings from Hávamál, a poem from the Poetic Edda ... and my own translations:

There is mingling in friendship when man can utter
all his whole mind to another;
there is nought so vile as a fickle tongue;
no friend is he who but flatters.

     = be honest with friends

Less good than they say for the sons of men
is the drinking oft of ale:
for the more they drink, the less can they think
and keep a watch o'er their wits.

     = more drinking = less thinking

The miserable man and evil minded
makes of all things mockery,
and knows not that which he best should know,
that he is not free from faults.

     = no one is perfect, including you

Long is the round to a false friend leading,
e'en if he dwell on the way:
but though far off fared, to a faithful friend
straight are the roads and short.

     = a good friend is always near at heart

Cattle die and kinsmen die,
thyself too soon must die,
but one thing never, I ween, will die, --
the doom on each one dead.

     = one's reputation lives on forever

and finally, my favorite, and probably the most true:

Let him speak soft words and offer wealth
who longs for a woman's love,
praise the shape of the shining maid --
he wins who thus doth woo.

      = compliment and give stuff to girls and they will like you

Haha... jk about the last one.

Not a Viking in so many ways

Sunday Night Sketching

Today my friend Abby and I went shopping in the Southcenter/Renton area. This turned out to be a terrible (awesome) idea. Below, my purchases:

-An excessive amount of picture frames for photos I probably won't get around to printing for a really, really long time

-South of Broad, a book that had to buy (even though school starts imminently) because it is based in South Carolina and has an idyllic drawing of a little southern town on the cover

-A Disney Princess sticker book, that I convinced myself I will use for a collage in one of the picture frames mentioned above

-Three huge candles that were 50% off and don't have holders

-A bag of Swedish Fish (from Ikea)

And finally... a sketchpad and charcoals. In effect, a lot of stuff I do not need. But in my defense I did eat most of the Swedish Fish, and, to prove to myself that I didn't waste $10 on a bunch of black sooty rocks, I drew a little eye. See below.

So worth it.

Setting Out

I recently found a plethora of old diaries while deep-cleaning my bedroom. To my disappointment, but unsurprisingly, a few had a page or two of writing, and the rest were empty - testimony to the fact that I've never been enamored with journaling. To be honest with myself, I might never be. I think two fears are at play.

I've always struggled to find my own voice when I write, and I honestly believe that my childhood obsession with reading fiction (especially historical fiction journals - Dear America series, anyone?) has something to do with it. When I write about myself, I want to explain what I truly feel, but my words always seem overly dramatized, pretentious, and novel-esque. I seem to be able to write in anyone's voice but my own. A pilgrim, a British queen, a pioneer, a sailor - I can immediately imagine what they would say, how they would say it - but myself? I have no clue, and never have. I remember struggling through "morning pages" in my high school creative writing class, attempting to write in stream-of-conscience but just wanting to detail anyone else's life but my own and ending up with the blabber of a ten-year-old. I am able to pour out words in my hardest times, and I have written a few pages of intense introspection at church retreats or on mission trips, but these are rare occasions. When I am not highly emotional or encouraged, I don't write about myself. I don't know how to write me.

Secondly, I tend to stay away from journals because they have always seemed horribly burdensome. I remember one period in junior high when I tried to write in a diary every day, and it was torturous. I stayed up an extra two hours each night in bed trying to get every boring event down - and that journal lasted less than a week. I just didn't see the payoff.

Recently, however, a few of my friends have finally inspired me to face my fear of journaling and make a compromise: a blog. Here's my deal to myself: I will post whenever, and whatever. And here's my hope: Without the paralyzing pressure of feeling the need to chronicle every anxiety, idea, meal, shopping excursion, and embarrassing moment that has always scared me away from fully dedicating myself to a journal; without the worry that my words won't be cohesive, or eloquent, or written in the perfect "voice;" without even making my blog a "journal," in the diary sense - hopefully this way I can just get something down. Over the past few years I've begun to realize that writing down your thoughts is an amazing way to grow, and maybe with this blog I will begin to discover more of myself. No promises of anything groundbreaking or inspiring - sometimes I just need to share what's on my heart.