As I mentioned in last week’s post, I’ve been hard at work deciphering the scribblings of our mysterious M.A., and I’m happy to report I have a few entries to present today.
I’m giving you the first two I found, therefore I’m calling them the First Two Entries. (Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?)
Please keep in mind nothing was dated, so let’s not get too concerned whether they were actually M.A.’s first writings, hmm?
In the same way, don’t worry about whether I’m making all this up or not. There’s much to be said for losing yourself in story.
There are far worse places you could find yourself.
Continue reading “Thoughts From a Noble Woman: M.A.’s First Entries”
In a previous post, I lamented the lack of philosophical writings for women. A collection of ideas where the chief goal was to empower, embolden, and other em-words like that there.
But was it true? Did we really lack such writings, or was I falling into a “poor me” mentality, as satisfying as it is lazy? I had to find out.
My trip to the library produced mixed results. The reading materials were plentiful and the cold brew coffee sold in their cafe (only $3.95) was lovely. The problem, as I saw it, was that the writings focused too much on what was wrong with women. They came from a premise that we were broken. Battered down and weakened.
After two hours of disheartening research, I bought another cold brew and headed home.
That was when my trip took an interesting turn. Continue reading “Recent Discovery: the Diary of a Noble Woman”
Each day began with the same routine: upon rising from bed, he stretched, touched his toes five times, did a quick jog in place, and finished with a growled affirmation that this day, as were all days prior, would be his day.
Why it was his day, or what it was his day for, was never quite clear. Nor did his wife ask him. She decided early in their marriage that it might be best she not know. She also decided to wake up a full hour before he did, which on the whole was quite wise.
This particular morning, however, he did not stretch upon rising from bed, he touched his toes 10 times rather than five, and were his wife still in the room, she would have noted the lack of affirmation that the day was his.
For he did not feel the day was his. Nor did he feel it was not his. He merely felt that the day was.
This was the first sign something was amiss.
The second occurred when he walked into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and greeted his wife.
Continue reading “A Little to the Left — A Tale of Political Leanings”