The Materialistic Maiden

Where I sip coffee and judge everyone.

Month: October, 2013

In Which I Make Another Attempt At Poetry

Lay by me, my darling,

as we paint the flowers and skies

with hues like the Aegean sea and 

yellow daffodils. 

Twist your hair and observe the 

rain as it pitter-patters

mimicking, tracing the rhythm of your heart;

thinking as piano melodies are plinking,

racing towards the tracks to your soul.


Drawings are envious of the eyes

that encompass all; your eyes.

Every flower bows its head in shame

to the spectacularity of your form;

graceful, whimsical, and tantalizing.

Blink blearily and nod your head as

you lull to bed in my arms.

Dream beautiful dreams, stories that can

be put to later use. 


Let the flickering flames of the dying fire

warm the last cold bits that haunt you.

Allow me to shoo them away, hush your crystal

tears, and frame your watercolor complexion

in the gallery of my mind.

(I promise I won’t quit my day job.)

In Which I Am Extremely Infuriated (There’s A Good Message In This)

A dear friend of mine had been talking to this guy for a little bit, someone he met over the internet. The man sent him goodies in the mail and lovely text messages, and everything seemed too good to be true–because it was. 

Do not mess with my friends. Do not pretend to be someone you’re not. I will take your picture, I will google image search your picture, and I will find out who you really are. In this case, the man admitted to be lying to my friend. Sick. 

Let Me Tell You All About Mrs. Poe

So, I’m almost certain that most of you who are reading this post know of the writer Edgar Allan Poe, and that, knowing him, you know he married his cousin. (I promise, this wasn’t weird back then.) In this blogpost, I’m going to share some photos, a poem, and other tidbits about her. She deserves more appreciation.

Virginia Clemm was born in August of 1822 to Maria Clemm. The young spritely girl married her first cousin, Edgar, when she was 13 and he 27. What amazes me about this is that she was able to pass as being “21” so they could legally marry. I’m convinced that the man who married them was on drugs. I mean, take a look at the portrait below and tell me that you think she looks 21:


Here’s a colored version, closer up:


Alright, perhaps she looks a bit older for her age. But it still amazes me. I digress.

Virginia was known to be a kind soul who enjoyed singing (she was a soprano). I read up that  she was seven years of age when she first met Edgar, after his discharge from the army. Poe moved in with the family in 1833, four years after the two first met, however they would not become smitten with one another until 1835. During this time, Poe was crushing on another woman, Mary Devereaux, and Virginia was their messenger. The romance with Virginia really started sparking when she was supposed to be sent off to live with their cousin Neilson, so that she may receive a good education. Emotional and flustered, Edgar wrote a rather melodramatic  heartbreaking letter pleading to not have Virginia leave him. During this time, he had moved out of the household to Richmond, Virginia, however upon hearing this planned to move back in. This would be the ultimate move to lead Poe to marry his cousin. They married May 16th, 1836, and the rest was history from there, until her death of tuberculosis in 1847, at the age of 24. (Coincidentally, Edgar Poe’s mother, brother, and foster-mother all died at the age of 24 as well.)

Now, on to some more uplifting matters.

Here’s a poem I found that she’d written for Edgar:

“Ever with thee I wish to roam —
Dearest my life is thine.
Give me a cottage for my home
And a rich old cypress vine,
Removed from the world with its sin and care
And the tattling of many tongues.
Love alone shall guide us when we are there —
Love shall heal my weakened lungs;
And Oh, the tranquil hours we’ll spend,
Never wishing that others may see!
Perfect ease we’ll enjoy, without thinking to lend
Ourselves to the world and its glee —
Ever peaceful and blissful we’ll be.”

Here’s a photocopy of the original:


And now, I will end with a few more portraits/a photograph I had found of Virginia:




(Here are the links citing where I got the photos and information in this blogpost:

(Personal Post, Please Ignore)

Remember, a test does not define who you are. 

I will fail this statistics exam with grace and ease. 

As long as my daddy’s proud of me, I am blissful.

(And yes, I will always call him my “daddy,” no matter how old I am.)

(Better post will come soon, I promise.)

Post-Mortem Photography: A Great Interest of Mine

I would like to introduce this subject to those who do not know about it already.

Post-Mortem photography was a big fad in the 1800s, used as a way of preserving deceased family members and/or loved ones while they were still “alive”; basically while they were still in good enough shape despite being dead.

It’s really interesting what these photos looked like. I would like to present a photo before I delve more into this topic:


Look between the two young ladies. Who do you think is deceased?

If you said the young woman on our left, you’re incorrect. In fact, the young woman standing is deceased. How is this possible! Well back then, photographers would use contraptions to make the deceased bodies standup. (Also, if you look at her hands, they’re significantly grayer than the girl sitting next to her.) Below is a great example that I found that shows a “zoomed-out” preparation of this:

Although the body is sitting, you can see the mechanics behind the body holding him up. When looking at photographs, one can commonly figure out whether a photo is post-mortem or not based on a stand (or pole) behind the back, if noticeable, or typically a “ring” around the neck or head, as can be seen around this late gentleman’s head. I will late discuss how to tell whether a post-mortem photograph is post-mortem or not without these “hints” to tell us.

Typically in post-mortem photography, as shown above, deceased bodies were posed with their eyes open. However, some were also posed with eyes closed. Below is an example:


As seen, the baby is the one who is deceased, because their eyes are closed. (Trust me, it’s the baby.) Babies and young children were typically victims of death being posed for these photographs.

An example I will show below is of a deceased child with their eyes open:


Something I wanted to bring up especially with this photo is, as previously mentioned in my post, there aren’t always ways of telling whether the subject of a photograph is post-mortem or not based on the propping stands. When those deceased were photographed with their eyes closed, sometimes photographers (I’m assuming? or painters) would paint eyes onto the photographs to give the deceased body “eyes.” (I have never come across a photo with said paint on the eyes before, however this is based on what I have read.) Also, although I am by no means a professional, I *believe* this photo of the child above has painted on eyes. If I am wrong, please do let me know!

Something else to keep mind of when determining whether a subject is deceased or not is based on how still or not the subject is. For example, the photo I will show below is of a deceased woman and two acquaintances of hers:
The woman is perfectly still, whereas the two others are blurred. Back in this early time, photography was extremely sensitive, so often times photographs from this time were blurry because those posing could not keep still. However, if the subject was deceased, they would be stark still in the photo.

With that last statement, I will transition us into a showcase of one more of my favorite post-modern photos and end this with a link to an interesting article I had found. Do you think the men in the article are deceased? Please comment and let me know!

(I love how doll-like the deceased girl looks!) (Link to the deceased men I am a bit skeptical about.)

(Links sourced are below:

In Which I Express My Adoration For Edgar Allan Poe

Seriously, it is very strong.

Extremely, extremely strong. I mean


look at this man. Isn’t he the epitome of perfection? 

(If you save the pictures, or whatever, the links to where I got them are the photo description. So I’m properly sourcing these in a way. Don’t antagonize me.)

I Like to Consider Myself an “Artist”

I am an art history major, however I never felt that I could work with mediums of art other than felt creations. So please, I would love feedback. Let me know what you think.


Why is college depressing. 

You want me to live a stereotypical life that societal standards have taught us is right, only to go to college where my depression reaches its all-time peak, so I can go into a career where I most likely will not make a lot of money and then become even more depressed, along with the thought of having to pay off loans. 

It’s a wonder the school system is still thriving as it is. And do you know why I go to school? Because people are judgmental and won’t give you a job if you don’t have a degree. Because I want to support Kevin so that we may have a happy future. So thank you, college, for giving me this depression and anxiety and for making me feel constantly horrible about myself. We’ll all die one day anyway, so why suffer through this. 

Seriously, school is painful to a lot of people. They just try not to show it. And while I am working my rear off to do well, professors casually give horrible grades. I apologize that I am not to your standard. I try to be the best student I can. And while I hear, “Oh, as long as you’re trying your best, that’s what matters!” But that doesn’t matter. Because there is a requirement to have a certain GPA to graduate with your major. So if you don’t have that, you’re stuck until you get it high enough. What a way to promote learning and happiness in a student. You go, college. Four for you, college.

Rubber is one of those movies that should have died before it started. 

Now I will have a fear of tires. And tricycles. 

My Blabbering, Please Do Not Pay Much Attention To This

I have been feeling extremely productive as of late. I am leading a book club, which will begin in the next few weeks; have been juggling classes and homework; am taking voice lessons once more; am in a Children’s Literature club, where we collect book and money donations for library and classroom book donations; and I have my first rehearsal for one-acts tonight. I will be performing in Watermelon Boats. More is to come on that.

I always aspired to be an actress, particularly in musical theater. I feel that, although this dream may not come true, I am at least taking part in what I have always loved. This is a good feeling.

Always go after your dreams, friends. Or at least try to do the things you love. There should be no regrets in life. Do what makes you happy.

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