Friday, December 24, 2010

The Art of Present Wrapping

As Christmas day draws closer, the number of hours spent wrapping gifts increases. "Santa's elves" are hard at work wih all those extremely last minute details, which include the wrapping of all the presents.

When faced with the challenge of intense-latest-possible-moment wrapping jobs, the hidden art of present wrapping is revealed. The huge mound of gifts just waiting to be dressed in colorful paper is seen as your iminent doom on Chistmas Eve. Suddenly, you start to worry that each child has an uneven amount of presents, or that you will run out of wrapping paper, gift boxes or bags at ten o'clock that night. Your faithful (...) husband willingly runs around town to retrieve extra gifts, more wrapping paper and lots more tape. Crazed and stressed Mother locks herself in her bedroom and burries herself with presents, wrapped and unwrapped.

Two hours into the wrapping session and you swear that the unwrapped pile is multiplying.

Three hours in and you call up said husband to pick up more stocking stuffers for Kiddo #2.

Four hours, and you're just about ready to give up on wrapping and set out all the presents as 'gifts from Santa'.

Five hours, and you realize that you haven't eaten since 8 A.M. this morning. You are suddenly plagued by fatigue and rush downstairs for food, only to find that the kids have destroyed the house, being unsupervised and given empty wrapping paper rolls.

Six hours, and finally, finally you are finished!

One of the most difficult parts of wrapping is the wrapping of oddly shaped boxes. How on earth are you supposed to wrap a box that has five corners, or is completely round? Of course, these boxes will not fit in a gift bag, so, we bring back the geometry lesson we were taught oh so long ago. Eventually, the box is covered wih paper... mostly....

And then, of course, you tuck the children safe in their beds and haul all the presents downstairs and arrange them aound the tree. Multiple times. Then, collapse into bed and wish desperately that said children will not wake you at the crack of dawn.

Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home!
~Charles Dickens

Friday, December 17, 2010

Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Lately I've been doing a lot of movie reviews, but, as Christmas draws closer, more good movies release and my parents are more willing to take us to see them (we have yet to see Tangled, but we will probably see it in the next week or so). Today, I saw Voyage of the Dawn Treader and I LOVED it! (I will try not to give away too terribly much...) The only thing that really disappointed me was how far it was from the book. Normally, Disney movies, if based off a book, stay on the same major plot line as the book. I am currently in the process of reading Dawn Treader and from what I have read (I am about halfway into it for the first time- sad, I know...) there is nothing about seven swords of the seven lords...? Dawn Treader does mention the Seven Lords, but I do not recall their swords. Also, wasn't Eustace supposed to be turned back into a boy much earlier in the story? instead of at the very end? Anyway, the overall movie was great- though personally it would have been better with another Regina Spektor song at the end, but that's just my opinion... I will most definitely be seeing this movie again, multiple times, and hopefully with Katie, Megan, and Rachel after/before our little sewing party, where we will attempt (key word: attempt) to sew our own Winter Formal dresses because formal dresses these days are insanely short, especially for someone as tall as I am. Oh, wait, I'm getting off subject...

*Might I say that I typed this whole post like I wanted to kill each and every key on my keyboard? Apparently my laptop doesn't like me today and will randomly not accept keys- like just now, in this last sentence, it left out A, o, n, i, o, a, t, c, space, and e. It was getting quite frustrating. Just picture a crazy girl in pajamas with cutsie pigtails pounding at her laptop like a maniac. Yep, that's me.

Ah, I almost forgot my quote!

In honor of Voyage of the Dawn Treader, today's quote will be by C. S. Lewis. And because I am in a good mood, and also because I can't decide which quote is my favorite, I shall post two.

Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point.

I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.

~C. S. Lewis

Sunday, December 12, 2010

British Accents

As I was writing one of my stories earlier today, I realized something quite interesting- and a bit odd. I had recently watched Titanic and parts of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, both of which the main characters have British accents. Now, one thing you must know about me to understand where I am coming from is that after watching about three hours worth of people talking in British accents, I tend to think and occasionally speak with a British accent as well. It is actually quite fun. So, as I sat writing in my room, the little voice in my mind was saying what I was writing with a British accent. What I then realized was that it was actually making my writing sound better. I do not know how, but it did. Somehow, it sounded more formal and mature (or maybe I was still reading it like a British person). Nevertheless, I shall now always write with my little British voice in my head, because one- it mysteriously improves my writing skills, and two- who doesn't like talking in a British accent?
I have decided to add a little something new to my blog posts. I have recently started a Commonplace Book, or, more plainly put, a book of quotes. I spend a lot of time looking up quotes lately to write in my very pretty leather bound journal I bought from Barnes and Noble. So, I have decided that I will add my favorite quote as of that day to the end of my blog posts from now on. Hopefully they will inspire you as much as they inspire me. (And if you want, read them in a British accent- it makes them sound so much prettier.)
Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme developement, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
~Edgar Allan Poe

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Sometimes a Day of Doing Nothing is Worth It

Lately, I have been pushing myself way too hard. I refuse to just let something go, like homework, for example. I, being a perfectionist, refuse to leave homework unfinished. I cannot stand having missing assignments. But sometimes, you just have to ignore those kind of things. Yesterday I had a random day off of school because the heat broke, and it was almost as cold as it was outside in our classrooms. And apparently, it was just going to get worse. So, no school! I was thrilled to have a day of doing nothing. I got to sleep in until nine, which is a rare occurrence, even on weekends. I laid around all morning, finished Goblet of Fire, and ate yummy Chex Mix stuff that I made myself (I'm quite proud of this achievement). After doing just a few chores, I cuddled up under my fluffy comforter in my bedroom with my laptop and wrote. I currently have thirteen unfinished stories in the making and with all the craziness that comes with high school life, I have not been able to make any progress on them for over a month. I even rediscovered an old document with an almost completed story on my laptop from, like, seventh grade (mind you, it was terribly written). I spent most of my morning sprucing up said story and listening to the second soprano part for the Coventry Carol, over and over and over and... well, you get the point (this is all thanks to my dear Katie, the musical genius of our school, whom without, our Girls Ensemble would not be half as good as it is now. And as I have said in an earlier post, Katie is a senior and will be leaving my friend Megan and I in charge of the Girls Ensemble, when it most definitely will not be as good as it is now. Sigh.) My quiet morning was then interupted by a Facebook message scheduling a two hour long choir practice for our Behold the Lamb concert on the 20th. I love choir, and everyone in it, but it was very hard to leave my warm bed and all of my stories and journey out into the subzero (well, below freezing at least) temperatures to get to the Lower school where we would have practice. We didn't even have soup, so there was nothing to really motivate me to get out of bed. Of course, eventually, I did make it to practice, a bit late, but nevermind that. I also finally found something to motivate me- I wore my new Quidditch World Cup tee-shirt. And my Ravenclaw scarf. They made me happy.
I am pleased to say that the Behold the Lamb songs are finally sort of coming together, which is awesome... Girls Ensemble songs, well... they need some work. But we're getting right on that. Tomorrow, actually. Let's just hope that our pianist can focus this time.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

My Very Lengthy and Detailed Harry Potter Experience

I do believe this post is past overdue...

Well, last Friday I had the privilege of going to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, a.k.a. the best place on earth. We did have to wait a couple hours before being able to actually get into the Harry Potter world part. After being thoroughly annoyed by the man who was blocking the entrance into Hogsmead and not letting anyone in unless their little ticket with the time they are allowed to come into the park said 12:40 or earlier (it was 12:50, and our ticket was for one o'clock), we were finally let in, along with a huge crowd of other people waiting ever so patiently.

The first thing you see when you walk in is the Hogwarts Express, complete with smoke and sound effects. Behind that is Platform 9 3/4, and then you are on the streets of Hogsmead. To your left are Honeydukes, Zonkos and the Three Broomsticks (and more...) and to your right are Dervish and Banges and Ollivanders. There are a lot more little shops set up between them, each with a 'closed' sign, or a 'out to lunch' sign. You can't actually go into these shops, but its fun to peer into the windows and look at the very detailed setup inside.

If you keep walking you pass a little corner where the House banners are displayed (Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff). Occasionally, you might be able to see a few students from Durmstrang or Beauxbaton lined up so you can take your picture with them, and sometimes the Frog Choir treats you with a song, complete with their talking toads. Keep going and you pass a butterbeer stand, and then in the distance the unmistakable tower of Hogwarts castle appears.

Walk through the gates of Hogwarts and students in their House robes great the 'muggles'. Inside of Hogwarts is probably the best ride/rollercoaster I have ever been on. Make sure you stow all loose items in the lockers on the room to your right before continuing, because you will lose them on the ride. Keep walking through the dimly lit corridors and you pass the Potions classroom and the Mirror of the Erised. You emerge outside to Professor Sprout's Herbology classroom, where a whole bunch of very strange, exotic plants can be found, including Mandrakes and Devil's Snare. After re-entering Hogwarts, the House Points are displayed to your right, with Gryffindor in the lead (of course...). The entrance to Proffesor Dumbledore's office lies ahead.

Pass Dumbledore's office entrance and you find yourself in Dumbledore's office- complete with a realistic hologram of the famed professor that talks to the muggle visitors. Walk through his office and you emerge into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Harry, Ron and Hermione greet you there, explaining how they are about to save you from a 'dreadfully boring' class taught by Proffesor Binns and fly you down to the Quidditch match. Walk out into the hallway and you pass the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, Fat Lady and all. Keep going and the picture of Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin greet you, talking amounst themselves about the famous 'boy who lived'. Ahead is the Sorting Hat, and beyond that is the ride itself.

You ge on, stap yourself in with a brace that comes over your shoudlers, and move towards a dark hole. After a quick 'good luck!' from a Hogwarts student, Hermione appears before you as a hologram like before. She explains how she is going to use Floo powder to get you to the Observatory, and from there Ron and Harry will fly you down to the Quidditch field. You then disappear into a cloud of green fog, and begin to fly.

You float into a staged setup of the Observatory, and hear Ron's voice praising Hermione's brilliance. You bob up and down, and the ride turn you so a huge Imax-sized screen takes up all possible space. (I tried to find the end of it, but when you're strapped in by your shoulders into a little enclosed space that only allows you to look ahead, its kind of hard.) They are both on brooms, and Harry yells for you to follow. You then begin on a really, really scary flight around the castle. And I don't mean, like freaky-creepy Paranormal Activity scary, I mean like this-has-got-to-be-real scary. I was literally pulling up my legs whenever they looked like they were going to hit something.

The cool thing about this ride is you feel like you are actually flying. Like, you're definitely moving. After following Ron and Harry for a little ways, the whole time screaming like a maniac, you come to a screeching halt in front of a bridge-type thing. Hagrid is standing there with a huge chain in his hands, and he wants to know if anyone's seen a dragon. You duck under the bridge and zoom after Harry and Ron, but not soon after you are being chased by the Hungarian Horntail from Goblet of Fire. The ride changes to a staged setup again, and you are inside that long covered bridge. The dragon is totally destroying the bridge to get to you, and you turn around to face its huge head, which promtly spits fire (super hot red fog) at your face.

Then you're in the Forbidden Forest (another setup), with the giant spiders. I can't remember much from this part, mainly because my eyes were closed and I was screaming like I was about to be murdered the whole time. What I do remember is they spit at you. Some of it got in my mouth. It was gross.

You then get to meet the Whomping Willow. I swore it was inches away from hitting my legs. And what could make this ride any better but... dementors! Super creepy, black cloaked...things that suck out your soul. Of course, my cousin and I yell 'expecto patronum!' at the same time, but it doesn't work because, unluckily for us, we do not have wands. But fortunately, Harry comes to save the day with his awesome Patronus charm and we follow him back to the Quidditch field where you meet none other than..... Draco Malfoy!

This was probably my favorite part of the ride because you actually feel like you're flying with the Gryffindor team. You know in the Chamber of Secrets movie, when Harry is being pursued by Dobby's Bludger? and him and Draco fly along the edge of the field, in and out of those beams? Yeah, that's what they did this time. If I could have hugged my knees to my chest, I would have.

You then fly straight up, hover for a while with Harry before plummeting down towards the water. You skim across it and back up to the castle where the Quidditch team greats you inside- they won the match by the way. In the next room, Dumbledore, Hermione and a few other Hogwarts students are giving you a huge round of applause, probably for surviving the ride. Dumbledore sends you back to the 'muggle world', and you flip up on your back, almost upside down and spin. A lot.

After you get off the ride, you are so overwhelmed by the sensory overloads, adrenaline rush and just amazement at how cool the ride actually was that it's kind of hard to walk straight. It doesn't help that you have to get off on a moving conveyor belt.

At the exit of the ride is Filch's Emporium, which is pretty much like the souvenir shop of Harry Potter world. I got a Ravenclaw house pin from there, and you can also get tee-shirts, hats, scarves, backpacks, mugs, etc.

The two other rollercoasters, the Flight of the Hippogriff and the Dragon Challenge are across from the exit.

After the ride, we went to the Three Broomsticks to eat. It was absolutely amazing- and I had butterbeer!! Which, by the way, tastes like a combination of cream soda, root beer and butterscotch with a really yummy sweet frothy stuff on top.

My cousin and I then went to Honeydukes while our parents finished eating their roasted chicken and pork ribs. They have everything from Chocolate Frogs to Berty Botts Every Flavor Beans to Sugar Quills. next door is Zonkos, where I sadly didn't buy anything.

We then waited in a two hour line for the 'Ollivanders Wand Experience'. My sister Hannah was chosen as the lucky child who actually experiences the experience... if that makes sense. Mr Ollivander presented her with several wands, instructing her to either water the flowers by saying 'aguamenti' or drawing the ladder towards her with the words 'accio ladder'. The wand that 'chose' her was a wand of reed, dragon heartstring and 11.5 inches in length. Lets just say I was very, very jealous. The wand box even had authentic Ollivanders dust on it! I was satisfied with Sirius Black's wand replica, though.

At Dervish and Banges I got my Ravenclaw scarf- my new favorite fashion accessory. I also picked out an assortment of my Christmas presents (yes, I shop for myself now...) which included the Golden Snitch, a Time Turner keychain and a model of the Hungarian Horntail.

So, that's pretty much the basic summary of what we did, well, actually it was more of a very detailed explanation.... That day was the best day of my life, and I cannot wait to go there again sometime soon.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

HP7 ***Spoiler Alert!***

Alright, normally I'm not a movie critic (though most of my friends are...), but I thought that Harry Potter 7 deserved a critique.

***Warning- If you have not seen Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, stop reading while you can. CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK! If I spoil it for you, don't blame me- you're the one who's still reading***
Overall, the movie was amazing. I thought it followed the book pretty well, though some major-ish details were left out. It was kind of slow; it lasted over two hours and hardly any important events occurred (except for killing a few Horcruxes... actually, it was only one, wasn't it?).
Here's what I loved about the movie:
1. The multiple Harrys just crack me up (especially the one in a dress...)
2. They got Fred and George's lines right when George loses an ear... 'I feel saint-like' ahh, gotta love the Weasley twins.
3. The wedding was just as I imagined it (and I loved Fleur's dress!)
4. The whole scene at the Ministry of Magic? Loved it!
5. I thought the scene when Harry and Hermione dance was so touching and cute- even though it wasn't in the book, I thought it fit in perfectly. (and I still think Harry and Hermione are a cuter couple)
6. When they destroy the Horcrux locket- it was perfect... and they got the doe Patronus right!
7. Really, just the entire movie in general. It was downright amazing.
There were a few things that disappointed me...
1. This has to do with Hedwig. In the very beginning, while they were flying in Hagrid's motorcycle, Hedwig was supposed to be in a cage, but in the movie she was flying. And Harry claims that it was Hedwig made him different from the other Harrys, but in reality it was when he stunned Stan Shunpike instead of killing him.
2. Also, what ever happened to trying to stay undercover? Hagrid and Harry were zooming in and out of traffic, and causing accidents. I think its safe to say that the Muggles noticed...
3. Hagrid and Harry never went to Tonk's house- they were supposed to Apparate there to the Burrow (reflecting back on Half-Blood Prince- why the heck did they burn down the Burrow?!)
4. Lupin never stopped by at Grimmauld Place.
5. Harry never gave Kreacher the locket (which was really disappointing, because I liked Kreacher a whole lot better after he had the locket).
6. What was up with Ginny? She really disappoints me sometimes...
7. Wasn't Wormtail supposed to die?
8. Mad-eye Moody's death was clearly under-done. I was prepared to cry. And I didn't
10. The scene with Xenophilius Lovegood was all wrong. It was just wrong.
I would definitely recommend this movie to all Harry Potter fans. It was amazing, and they stuck to the book so well! I can't wait to (hopefully) see it again with my cousins this week. And oh, did I mention I'm going to the WIZARDING WORLD OF HARRY POTTER on Friday?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Unexpected and Unsolvable

American culture loves mysteries. They enjoy fantasizing about the unknown. To enlarge upon the unknown, especially in writing, is an example of ambiguity. Ambiguity is a word or expression that can be viewed in a number of ways. Henry James often uses ambiguity in The Turn of the Screw to add a sense of mystery to his writing.

The use of ambiguity makes James' novel a work of sinister mystery, unsolvable events and a unique perspective. The combination of ambiguity and narrative ellipsis draws the reader in, only to leave him hanging at a vital part of the story. Henry James uses ambiguity well, making it work for him.

By using ambiguity, James gives the novel an eerie tone, forcing the reader to come to their own conclusions. He often makes important events or information vague, again forcing the reader to make his own decisions. Did Miss Jessel and Peter Quint have an affair? Is the governess only working at Bly to gain the uncle's love? Are the children as innocent as they seem? James leaves out the answers to these questions, adding to the overall effect of the novel.

Henry James uses ambiguity to expand upon the eerie, mysterious feel of the novel that was already established my his characters and setting. He can effectively draw readers into the story and keep them in. His readers never quite know what to expect, making The Turn of the Screw a well written novel full of captivating mysteries and unexpected, and unsolvable, problems.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Me and My Busy, Busy Life...

Stressed? Me? Nah, lets go with over-my-head-in-this-craziness-we-call-life.... yeah, that sounds about right.

Why am I stressed? Well, lets begin with the gazillion choir practices we had this week. One on Monday morning, one Wednesday after school. Those were both for the Christmas production choir. Then there's the million other practices for the Fall Banquet choir, most of them during lunch period. The banquet was Friday night (we sounded marvelous, if I do say so myself). We sang three songs, all of which lasted about seven minutes combined. We were there for five hours. I never knew how much fun a mix of sophomores, juniors and seniors could have with about 300 Silly Bandz when you're locked in a room with an assortment of grammar school children all night. I would try to narrate all the funniness that went on that night, but words cannot do it justice. It was a you-had-to-be-there kind of thing.

On top of having to sing at the banquet, I learned that my BFF Megan and I are being involuntarily volunteered (oxymoron, anyone?) into running the Girls Chorus next year, in place of two of the most musically talented people I know- two of our Seniors, who will not be here next year (silent tears...). Um, what?! For the record, I have ZERO talent in the music department whatsoever. I'm still trying to figure out why I'm in choir in the first place. I can't play an instrument, I can't sing, I can't hear tone, or pitch, or any of those other musicy terms. And now I'm expected to lead this thing??? Thankfully, Katie and Megan the Great (our seniors)(I said Megan the Great because 1. Megan the Great is Megan the Great. and 2. two people named Megan in this blog post would be quite confusing...) agreed to write a manual on How to Lead Chorus, How to Be a Senior, and hopefully Katie will make a YouTube video of all the parts for all the songs the chorus girls will ever sing.... haha, just kidding :)

Then we have my younger sisters upcoming birthday party. There will be horses. At my house. In my yard, and on my dad's lawn. And they will poop. yippee....

We also have a slight problem with the horse I lease, Smokey. He is lame, and we don't know why. I have tried everything, but nothing seems to help. It is most definitely frustrating.

And we can't forget that I'M GOING TO FLORIDA IN PRECISELY 8-ISH DAYS!!!!!!!!

So, yes. Stressed, well, it can't exactly describe my life at this moment. It is too weak of a word.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Just For Fun

I absolutely love the feeling I get when I sit down at my laptop and think 'hmm, what can I write about today?' A blank Word Document (or piece of paper, but writing things out hurts my hand) holds so much potential, so many possibilities. I could write about how beautiful the stars look tonight, or how the moon randomly disappeared... or how excited I am for Thanksgiving break (because I'm going to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter!!! eep!!!!- but there will be more on that later...). The possibilities are endless.

Many authors think 'what do my readers want to hear?'. Me? I think 'what do I want to hear?' I write mostly for my enjoyment, but most people enjoy my writing as well :). Some people may call me odd, but I don't mind. I am myself, and no one else. I'm me. Besides, I'm not that odd...

**you are about to read a very random rabbit trail taken straight from the depths of Lila's mind... be warned**

What did I learn today? (besides how to graph a rational expression or what stasis theory is or what ethos, logos, or pathos are, that is...) I learned that mothers tend to think that a Deathly Hallows symbol drawn on your hand means you're in some kind of gang. I learned that certain Seniors cannot stand when pizza interferes with their schedule. I learned that old people who have their little 'Daytimers' meeting in our cafeteria smell like overpowering floral perfume- and mustiness. I learned that certain peoples eyes sparkle at specific times. I learned that if you open a bottle of nail polish in a stuffy classroom, it makes the whole room smell weird. I learned that another certain Senior's mind is a 'deep, dark place' and that when they think of 'to protect', they also think of 'to eat'. And that at certain times in the day- meaning last period- said Senior will laugh uncontrollably for no specific reason. I learned that because of Daylight Savings (which I currently love- but ask me that in the spring and I will hate it) the sun conveniently shines right in my eyes in the tiny classroom. I learned that tappy shoes are very, very loud when one is walking down the halls alone- and this is why you can normally find me walking barefoot.

Yes, these are the important things I learn during my day, at least, they are the things that I remember at 11:20 at night.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Rest in Peace, Poor Thing

Have you ever felt that horrible sense of dread, like all hope is lost? The one feeling that comes right as you find out some kind of tragic news? Yes, I'm sure most of you (being human beings and all) know what I mean. Today, I discovered the tragic fate of my cell phone. It has been unmercifully drowned in our washer.

Now, I know that cell phones aren't that important (actually, I'm lying- my cell phone was one of my most valued possessions- right after my A. A. Milne books and all those amazing works of literature). But honestly, I feel as if I have lost part of myself. If you think about it logically, you talk to your cell phone more than anyone else (disregarding the fact that you are actually talking to someone when you talk to your phone). (I'm using a lot of parentheses in this post. Just thought I'd let you know.) For the Harry Potter fans that are reading this- I feel like Harry did when his wand broke. For those of you who haven't read Harry Potter (I most enthusiastically recommend these books), I feel that I have let my phone down in the worst way possible- a horrible death in the deep labyrinth of the feared washing machine that robs all electronics of their lives. I feel like such a murder, because my phone was left in my chapel skirt pocket, which was then washed by my mother today. (not that I'm blaming her, but if she hadn't washed my skirt...)

Thankfully, we had my father's old phone, which happened to be the exact model my poor deceased one was, so I simply switched the SIM card into the semi-new red phone. All's well that ends well, right? Um, not quite. Unfortunately, half of my contacts were stored onto the victim of this tragic death, thus meaning I have lost half of the numbers in my address book, along with all my pictures. So, I do still have a phone, but it will never amount to my old one. RIP, my dearest blue cell phone, because none shall ever be as great as you were- not even the exact same model (because he's red, and I like blue better).

Total Number of Parentheses: 14

***Edit: I must add that after I published this post, the little add that appears on my screen on the Blogger home page - it was about cell phones.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Tut, Tut

I apologize greatly for my lack of blog updates, and I will apologize in advance for any typos- my keyboard tends to skip certain letters. I also apologize that this post will not contain any though provoking topics or essays on transcendentalism (although most of you probably won't mind the absence of the latter).

What I will share is my most recent obsession with A. A. Milne, who wrote the famed Winnie-the-Pooh tales and poems. His writing is absolutely marvelous. For childrens books, the Winnie-the-Pooh books consist of some of the best literature I have ever read. Currently, I have a copy of the 'Complete Tales and Poems of Winnie-the-Pooh' sitting beside me, tempting me with its beautiful words. I am seriously considering pushing the idea of studying A. A. Milne in our AP Literature class (we are already petitioning the study of Dr Seuss, who is another one of my favorite authors). Milne's writing is so captivating that I even felt compelled to read the foreward, which I don't normally do (yes, shame on me- I apologize again to Literature teachers of the past and present) and read his short bigraphy that precedes the story.

What I quite enjoy about Milne's stories is how he can captivate four year olds as well as adults. I read one of the chapters in my book to my youngest sister today (Chapter Five, In Which Piglet Meets A Heffalump) and I was amazed at how the same story that was holding that spunky, can't-sit-still child's attention was continuing to fascinate me with the outstanding writing techniques.

My suggestion? Find a copy of the originial Winnie-the-Pooh stories (preferably an old one, they smell the best)- none of those 'Pooh's First Halloween' rip offs that they sell in the dollar stores- that is most certainly not literature- and read it. Read the whole thing. Hopefully it will awaken the inner child in you, and those faint memories of 'tut, tut, looks like rain.'

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Like the Wind

I wrote before about the loss of your imagination, but the loss of your inspiration, well, that is just tragic. Your imagination slowly dies off as you grow older; its a common occurrence. But your inspiration, it can just turn on and off like a light bulb. One minute you have the perfect idea for a story or poem, and the next minute it's gone. For me, inspiration is the thing that keeps me going- the ability to write and express myself is how I deal with things.

The loss of an author's inspiration is commonly masked as 'writers block'. This phrase is tossed around as an excuse for the loss of inspiration. No professional author wants to admit that their inspiration has left them- it could be detrimental to their career.

The great thing about inspiration is, unlike imagination, with a little searching you can normally find it again. It may not be as strong of as influential as it was before, but it is there, waiting to be used. Be careful- inspiration is temperamental and usually has an expiration date. Make sure you never ignore it, because soon you will find yourself with that annoying little disease they call writers block.

Inspiration is like the wind; it comes and goes as it pleases. You can never see it, but you can always feel its soft fingers touching your mind. And with the right tools, you can bend and twist it to make it into a work of true beauty.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Cathedrals, Cherry Blossoms, and Moldy Pudding

It was a gorgeous spring day, maybe around 70 degrees all day but kind of windy. My family and the Webb family decided to go to Washington DC to see the cherry blossom trees. We were all expecting a pleasant day, wandering around the city under a canopy of white blossoms that were showering petals from above. Sounds like heaven right? Too bad that was the exact opposite of what happened. So we decided to all fit into one van, meaning that two people would have to double buckle, and of course I was crammed in the backseat with the three youngest girls.

Our van had a built in DVD player so I assumed I would be able to have a peaceful drive. Boy, was I wrong. At first everyone was quiet and content with watching who knows what movie. Soon the youngest girls were complaining that they were hungry. It was 10 o’clock. After they were satisfied with chocolate, I entertained myself with my sister’s Nintendo DS. By the time we were actually in the city my brain was fried. Anyway, that whole time our GPS was yelling at us for not listening to its directions. We finally approached our first destination- the zoo. Too bad for us the zoo parking lot was COMPLETELY full- I didn’t even know that was possible! So forget that idea.

After about another 30 minutes of looking for a parking spot, we decided to go and see the National Cathedral. At this point we all had to go to the bathroom. Badly. So we conveniently found a spot right smack in front of the cathedral and only have to walk a few yards to the entrance, which happened to be huge glass doors that must have been cleaned very frequently because I honestly didn’t notice them until I almost ran into one of them. We all filed in, ran to the bathroom as fast as possible, and then walked into the chapel. I seriously felt like I had been taken back in time. The high, open ceilings gave the place an airy feel. Colorful stain glass windows cast multicolored shadows on the columns and floors. Hushed whispers carried through the large room, giving it an eerie feel.

Anyway, there was going to be this organ presentation where some guy was going to actually play the gigantic organ that was housed in the back of the cathedral. As we sat in comfy pews, waiting to be allows into the organ room, Maddie and I got bored and decided to explore.

We wandered into a tunnel on the side of the cathedral that had different stain glass windows depicting scenes from the bible. It was dark, except for the light shining in from the windows. We reached the end of the tunnel and turned back, only to find that our families had disappeared. Apparently they had gone into the huge worship room to see the organ presentation. Maddie and I didn’t want to walk in front of all these people to get to our families so we sat back down where we were before. The organ player was talking on and on about the history of organs and how they were played and stuff like that. Maddie and I were talking the whole time, completely unaware that guy had stopped explaining and had sat down to play.

As soon as he struck the first, and extremely LOUD, chord, we both practically jumped out of our skin!! It sounded like something out of a horror movie! Maddie leaned over and said ‘it’s a good thing we weren’t in the tunnel when he started playing or else I would have screamed and run for my life.’

So after that, since it was around 1 o’clock, we went across the street to the Bishop’s Garden, which had to be the most beautiful place I have ever been in my whole entire life. It was like a combination of Narnia and the Secret Garden. If the cathedral was a different world, this was like being inside a book or something.

We walked in through an old fashioned wooden gate and down a narrow cobblestone path. There was a little rose arbor which must have been gorgeous if the roses were blooming. Maddie and I ate our lunch on a little bench beneath an old and twisted tree branch. Later, we determined that the gate we walked through was the entrance to Narnia.

The moms decided they wanted to go to the very top of the cathedral, which, by the way, can only be achieved if you ride this rickety old elevator up seven floors and it’s going like, faster than I can run, up and down. I thought I might die. Oh, and it doesn’t help that there’s a window in the door so you can see whenever you pass a floor. It was very frightening.

The hallway was very narrow and claustrophobic, but the view was great. Although I was ready to walk down 7 flights of stairs (which were emergency only) rather than ride that death trap back down at 100 mph plummeting to my death…….

We finally went to the zoo, which was overly crowded, smelled like sweaty guys, and had three dollar soda and ice cream bars. The only animals we saw were sleeping lions and overgrown chipmunks… I mean, prairie dogs…

So then we wanted to drive to the cherry blossom trees and take some pictures. We never even got out of the car. I think we spent about two hours driving just to see some trees. About halfway thru the car ride I finished my soda and then really had to go to the bathroom. Like the I’m-gonna-explode-if-we-don’t-find-a-bathroom-in-the-next-5-minutes. But apparently we were nowhere near a bathroom. Oh, joy. The following half hour was quite unpleasant. Everyone was screaming, my mom was losing her mind having to drive through that traffic and on top of on the verge of exploding, I had a massive headache. Not. Fun. At. All.

Finally, we found a parking garage and guess what? No bathrooms. We had to walk down the block (well more like sprint for me) to the nearest bathroom and then the security dude (because it was a bank- I think….) had to show us where they were. I just about died.

Our next adventure was our search for food, which involved dry sandwiches and moldy pudding. I ate crackers for dinner. After we ate our so called ‘dinner’, we walked back to our parking garage, only to find that the entrance we had come out of was locked. And heaven forbid we walk down the ramp else we get hit by all the cars that were just zooming in and out of there. For a minute we thought we had the wrong garage. Thankfully, we found our van thanks to a friendly (or, not so friendly) parking garage guy who pointed us in the right direction. A number of times. So we all climb in and after about 15 minutes of the little girls’ incessant chatter, I was seriously willing to walk home. Or ride a bus or hitchhike or anything to get me out of that van. Yes, it was that bad. Thankfully after a while they settled down and I could think clearly again.
All-in-all it was a pretty good trip, minus the traffic, getting scared out of our pants by an organ, moldy food, and screaming children. I do know for sure that we will not be going back anytime soon.

This was written a while ago (actually, it appeared as a less structured and more grammatically incorrect post on my previous blog), but I remade it for a Rhetoric assignment. I hope this made you laugh.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

The Battle is Not Ours

Now, I know that I have said that I will never write poetry, because I cannot rhyme. At all. I'll tell you a secret- I wrote the poem 'Liberty' with the help of a rhyming dictionary. But I wanted to try something different last night. After I got back from youth group, I wrote this:

We are all soldiers,
willing to fight for a cause.
Together we make an army.
We all have our position and
no one is left behind.
Each individual is a playing piece
in the greater puzzle of life.
We can stand alone,
but together the picture becomes clear.
We are soldiers.
We thirst for the battle,
eager to fight for our cause.
We want to defend our cause.
We need to protect our cause,
but we are the cause.
We are the reason this battle is being fought.
We try to help, but are helpless.
We are forced to sit and watch;
to sit and ache inside.
We are burning inside.
We watch this battle being fought for us,
and we see him die.
We see him die a heroic death,
die for the cause.
But we are alive.
We grieve for the lost,
we feel the sorrow but pity ourselves.
We cannot see the greater picture.
That heroic death is why we live,
and the way he lives on.
He fights the battle for us,
sacrifices for us.
We want to help, but are helpless.
Each of us wants to deliver the final blow,
but we cannot.
This battle does not belong to us.
We watch, helpless, from the sideline
wshing we were fighting, too.
The final blow.
The enemy falls.
We have won,
and the soldiers live on.

Yes, its poetry- I take back what I said. But it doesn't rhyme, so in my book its not fully poetry. Its free verse. And that's not so bad.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Song of the Grass

Lately in AP Literature, we’ve been studying poetry, specifically poets who were the founders of Transcendentalism; those poets being Ralph Waldo Emerson and Walt Whitman. We were assigned as a class to read Whitman’s poem ‘Song of Myself’, which is precisely fifty-two stanzas long. It was a tough read, but very good. I would only recommend this to people who are serious about reading and have the ability to focus entirely on the poem without having to lock themselves in a closet.

Then we were each assigned a stanza to analyze and give a presentation for the next day. My stanza, number six, reads as follows:

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers' laps, And here you are the mothers' laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women, And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children?

They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

In this stanza, Whitman shows us the thoughts that ran through his mind when presented with the question ‘what is grass?”. At first, Whitman feels incapable of answering the child’s question, but ponders over the idea and comes up with multiple ideas the grass could be. The grass grows everywhere, and under everyone. This shows Whitman’s philosophy that everyone is equal.

The main theme for this stanza is one of the key themes for the whole poem ‘Song of Myself’. Stanza six expresses the theme of reveling in the beauty of nature and feeling the connection to it. This theme reoccurs frequently throughout the poem, as it being one of the major themes of transcendentalism.

Whitman gives us several ‘definitions’ of what he thinks grass represents. In line three, he calls it the ‘flag of my disposition.’ I think he is saying that the grass reflects his personality. He also calls it the ‘handkerchief of the Lord, a scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped.’ A remembrance is a souvenir, or a memento- something to remember God by. Whitman is saying that the grass is from God, and reminds us of God. Another of his ‘definitions’ is a ‘uniform hieroglyphic’, which means an ‘unvarying symbol that is hard to understand.’ Whitman is literally saying that he actually doesn’t know what the grass is; he can’t figure it out. He is saying it could be a multitude of things. And then there is the ‘uncut hair of graves’… This gives us a definite image in our head, but the meaning and symbol behind this phrase is quite interesting. Whitman uses this phrase to imply that the grass grows off and comes from the dead and buried bodies of men. It acts as a ‘sanctuary’ for the deceased.

I want to point out a few lines that really sum the meaning of this stanza up:

What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children?
They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

In these lines, many different views can be applied while interpreting. For example, you could interpret that those lines are implying that whenever a blade of grass sprouts out of a grave, that dead person just gave it new life. From the transcendental view, there could be the implied idea of reincarnation. The very last line- ‘and to die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier’ reiterates the reincarnation belief. Or, from a Christian standpoint, we could conclude that it is talking of going to heaven. But since we know that Whitman was a transcendentalist, we also know that the idea of reincarnation is the most probable interpretation of these lines. Also, in one line, Whitman uses the word perceive, which literally means to become aware through the senses. Transcendentalism is all about experiencing nature through the senses, so I don’t think there could have been a clearer portrayal of transcendentalism.

Like the majority of Whitman’s poems, stanza six portrays the connection between man and nature. In this specific stanza, it conveys the transcendental worldview in a more efficient way than some of Whitman’s other poems. It is clearly speaking of grass, which is obviously part of nature. It also has an implied idea of reincarnation, which is another belief of transcendentalists.

What is reincarnation exactly? It is the belief that the soul, upon the death of the body, comes back to earth in another body or form. Technically, transcendentalists believe in the oversoul pool concept. This is their interpretation of life after death. The model of the oversoul pool is a fountain where souls mix at the bottom and are born again at the top. They believe that a piece of soul will conjoin with all the other pieces of soul to form a new soul. This isn’t exactly reincarnation, but it is closely similar.

Stanza six gives us a decent view into Whitman’s mind- it shows us some of his thoughts and opinions, and it also gives us a good view on his transcendental ideas, all portrayed uniquely in his song of the grass.

And I know that this is my writing blog, but as another part of the assignment we had to bring in an artistic representation of our stanza, so I drew this:

Its a bit hard to see, but its a gravestone in a field of grass.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Literature Essay

The Transcendentalist adopts the whole connection of spiritual doctrine. He believes in miracle, in the perpetual openness of the human mind to new influx of light and power; he believes in inspiration, and in ecstasy.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Transcendentalism began as a protest to the general state of culture and society, mainly towards Harvard’s beliefs and teachings. It is realized only through an individual’s intuition. Transcendentalists believe that the spiritual, or ‘transcendental’, overcomes the material. In transcendentalism, each individual finds, in Emerson’s words, ‘an original relation to the universe’. Ralph Waldo Emerson was one of the leading Transcendentalists, and he portrays his worldview through his various poems and essays. Since essays can express so much more than poems, Emerson depicts his ideas of Transcendentalism more effectively through his essays.
Emerson’s essay, “Self Reliance”, contains many examples of why prose exceeds poetry. On page three of the essay, Emerson illustrates the following conversation that passed between a friend and him:
“On my saying, What have I to do with the sacredness of traditions, if I live wholly from within? My friend suggested, -“But these impulses may be from below, not from above.” I replied, “They do not seem to me to be such; but if I am the Devil’s child, I will live then from the Devil.” (pg 3)
Emerson’s thoughts were explained quite plainly and to the point. In poetry, it is almost impossible to lay out ones views so forwardly while still sticking to the rhyme, mood, theme and beauty of the poem
Another forward portrayal of Emerson’s transcendental idea lies on page 13. In front of one paragraph, the number one marks the first of a series of points. By the use of these numbering, Emerson allows the reader to more easily understand the main ideas he wishes to convey. Again, this is an example of the simplicity that prose portrays. One would not be able to express so clearly the main topics if one was writing in poetry.
Man is his own star; and the soul that can
Render an honest and perfect man,
Commands all light, all influence, all fate;
Nothing to him falls early or too late.
Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
Our fatal shadows that walk with us still.
The previous poem demonstrates the symbolic theme of poetry. Poems have ‘hidden meanings’. They rarely express the true intent of the poem, but instead use satire, irony, or symbolism. After some thought and interpretation, the meaning of the poem can be extracted, but prose presents itself in a more suitable way. This poem does express the worldview of transcendentalism, but it goes about it in a vague and roundabout way. Emerson’s poems, while they are beautiful, are also unclear. The ability to use dialogue or conversation adds to the reason why prose exceeds poetry. His essays better express his opinions, thoughts and ideas.
The purpose of prose is to communicate ideas, where poetry is more like art that moves one with the beauty of its language. Emerson’s essays better discuss and promote his worldview of transcendentalism. Essays possess the power of simplicity and clarity; yet they can portray the main points or topics in multiple creative ways while still keeping with the simple theme. Emerson’s essays and poems both effectively promote his worldview, but the essays have the ability of promoting transcendentalism clearly.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

The One and Only

You are about to read the one and only poem I have ever written and most likely ever will write. Poetry is not my forte. This was a school assignment, which means I didn't sit down and write it all at once. This poem took me a few days to edit, rearrange, etc. So, enjoy!

A sign of freedom and pure strength,
A sign of intelligence in a lasting length.
Its power and beauty is unrestrained,
With its flowing tail and flowing mane.
The horse, in all its majesty,
The horse is a symbol of liberty.

The horse displays what human’s desire,
Speed and stability and a spirit like fire.
Its ears take in every small sound;
Swiveling and turning round and round.
The horse, standing wild and free,
The horse is a symbol of liberty.

His soft, dark eyes are loving and kind,
Seeing things to which we are so blind.
My little horse, so very wise,
Seems to sprout wings and take to the skies.
He takes me through clouds and unseen beauty,
My horse is a symbol of liberty.

My horse’s feet are as swift as thunder.
When the world seems to fall asunder,
He carries me away from all my fears
And his mane is there to wipe away my tears.
My horse is as constant as the sea,
My horse is a symbol of liberty.

Monday, September 27, 2010


Why are humans ticklish? Is it for mere enjoyment, for the thrill of the laugh? Or does it serve some higher purpose? That light brush on our skin can trigger so many reactions- a squirm, or a laugh, or a jump. It is a form of communication where words can be forgotten. Was the tickling sensation created just for God's enjoyment, so he can watch us laugh? Watching a young child laugh is contagious- it effects all who see it. You cannot help the urge to laugh along. It spreads the feeling of joy to everyone. Laughter is a gift sent by God, to encourage us and lighten our spirits when were feeling down. We should learn to thank Him for the small, trivial everyday aspects of life, such as a young child laughing from amusement of the sensation of being tickled.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

The Pink Eraser

Where would we be if we didn't have erasers? This thought popped into my head while I was taking a literature test today (five hand written paragraphs). What would we do without that faithful little pink block of synthetic rubber? Our test pages would be scribbled all over, that is for sure. In fact, what would we do if we didn't have pencils we could erase? This would certainly be a world wide tragidy. Imagine all the wasted sheets of paper because us humans are too hasty to take the time and make sure we do our work neatly. These little pink companions are truly quite useful, probably one of the most useful inventions. And its brother, the famed White Out, is just as useful as it is. This was demonstrated today by my friend Vic in government, who decided to write in pen for the first time in a while. Soon enough, out came the little bottle of White Out, ready and waiting to cover up any mistakes. Vic, who is minorly OCD, can't stand scratch marks on her notes, so imagine the state she would be in if the White Out failed her purposes? I'm sure you can use your freshly awakened imagination to figure that one out.

Thus was the case with my pink eraser in I, sitting in literature class. I scribbled away, writing who knows what about Ralph Waldo Emerson, and lo and behold, I realized that an entire paragraph was missing. Well, thats just peachy. So, I picked up said eraser, who is certainly needing a name by now, with all the referals it has recieved. The perfectly chiseled tips allow for detailed erasing, whereas the flat side is used for erasing bigger jobs. Don't ever make the mistake of erasing a whole paragraph with the corner, because this leaves a very sad looking corner that just doesn't match the rest. (my poor eraser is currently in this state)

So, my purpose for this short little narrative/essay is that do not disgrace your erasers by simply scratching out your mistakes- this proves the inward laziness that you keep so carefully hidden inside. And always, always, always write in pencil- unless that trusted bottle of White Out is resting somewhere nearby.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

A Little About Me

Welcome to my blog, Secrets of the Rain. For now I’ll go by the name Lila. I am an author-in-training; writing is my passion. It is how I express myself- but I do not write poetry (if I can help it). If you choose to follow my blog, which I would greatly appreciate, I’ll tell you about some of the things you might come across.

Mainly I’ll be posting written works, be it a paragraph or an entire essay. If you’re lucky, I might even post excerpts from a book I am currently writing- but only if I find a way to copyright it because I don’t want it stolen. So, mainly essays on my perspective of things. You can expect them to range in a wide scale from serious to laugh out loud, so be prepared. Maybe, if I’m in a good mood, you’ll see some pictures up here. Something else you should expect is quotes. I love to quote people, preferably Dr Seuss, whom I think is a genius. So if I come across a good quote, it will appear on here as well as become my Facebook status. I’ll probably end up putting the essays I write for school on my blog as well, so if you come across an essay written about something that seems so complicated it’s scary, just skip it. That’s only me posting my school assignments on my blog because I’m just a nerdy grade-obsessed high-school student.

That reminds me, you’re probably wondering who the heck this girl is, and why she’s droning on about things she hasn’t even written yet. Well, as I said before, I’m going by the name Lila (no, it is not my real name but I wish it was). I attend a small private school that has a fabulous academic program. I want to go to college to be a large animal vet. I hate vegetables. Smokey, who is my -not-exactly-mine horse, is practically my life- after God and family and school, of course. I am too tall. I write every single day, mainly stories but some essays. My favorite book is Pride and Prejudice. My favorite poem is The Raven. I am actually writing a poem for the first time in my life so maybe, just maybe, I might post it here.

Well, now let me explain why I named my blog ‘Secrets of the Rain’. Originally, I wanted to name it When the Rain Falls, but that web address was taken. So I randomly started typing in names that popped into my head, but they were all ‘unavailable’. Now, this was all occurring as a thunderstorm was rolling in. I knew I wanted my blog’s title to have something to do with the rain, because rain tends to fascinate me. As the storm came rolling in, with flashes of lightning and cracks of thunder, the name struck me like, well, lightning. Secrets of the Rain. It captured what fascinated me about the rain- the secrets it held. Do you remember, back in science class, talking about the water cycle, and how each drop of water just runs in a continual circle? Try to put yourself in the raindrop’s perspective. It’s captivating, isn’t it? If you can’t imagine it because you’ve, as my mother puts it, “lost your imagination”, allow me to help.

Hovering, floating, in the damp mist of the clouds; millions of tiny drops of water, all waiting for the right moment to plummet to the ground in a torrential downpour. They spin and twirl in the dance of the sky. From a distance, they look like one solid mass of puffy cloud, but the raindrops know that they are all separate, they are each their own special drop. The time comes. One by one they start to fall, until more decide they want to join in on the fun. Thunder crashes, lightning flashes. The raindrops begin their screaming decent to the earth below.

Is that enough, have you rekindled that old and dusty imagination of yours, or shall I go on? Yes?

With a splat, they splash against the earth- some on leaves, or pavement, or car windshields where they linger for a moment before being swept off in a ride almost as exhilarating as the plummet towards the ground. The drops gather into puddles, and puddles run into streams. Eventually, some of the raindrops are reunited, rushing down a swift and curving river. They crash against the rocks and fling themselves over waterfalls. The river leads to the salty ocean, where they patiently wait their turn to return to the sky, only to run the cycle again.

So by now you should have a pretty good idea on what I mean about the rain. That was from a funnier perspective, but it could’ve also come from a serious side as well. Besides the epic story behind each drop, there is also the emotion of rain itself. So many things happen when it rains. In many movies, the romantic kissing scene occurs while it raining. Rain can symbolize sorrow, yet it can also represent freedom. So you see, there are so many secrets that we can unfold from a simple thing such as rain.