The Pathetic Fallacy

Anyone who has made it past English 11 in high school or has read anything by the Bronte sisters knows all about the pathetic fallacy, when the weather becomes a broadcasting mechanism for the internal stuggle of the protagonist. The most classic example (and I'm not questioning the veracity of the Biblical account, only using it as an example) is when, during the suffering of Jesus on the cross, from noon until he died at 3pm, the sky goes dark and day becomes night. The argument could be made that it is not Jesus' suffering that causes this, but God's grief at the actions His dearest creation has wrought on a Son that is part of Himself, but that's neither here nor there in the example. It's just one that I picked because I think most of my readers (all two of you ;) will be familiar with it.

In fact, most Gothic and Romantic novels have an affection for the pathetic fallacy, while most of the modern audiences reading them roll their eyes at the ridiculousness of such an occurence. When we see it happen on TV, or in a movie, it's usually got something to do with the supernatural power of the character who's in a mood, or the presence of the Devil somewhere in the plotline.

But I wonder if anyone has ever thought about the reverse of the PF; that the author is not quite noting how the weather/external environment is responding to the emotional state of the protagonist, but rather how the protagonist is being influenced by the weather.

Case in point: today, I am in a relatively good mood. Or rather, I was, until I got out of the shower and noticed how dreary the day was. After a small amount of rejoicing over the fact that I no longer have to do yardwork today because it's been raining, I started coming down. I put Michael Buble's "Home" on repeat, and kind of puttered around. At this point, I'm a little teary, and looked outside only to find the weather reflecting my inner emotional state: not quite full on rain, but sporadic showers and overall greyness.

I don't quite know where I was going with that. I feel almost compelled to research whether anyone has ever explored the weather's effect on the Bronte sisters. But that's something for after the thesis is done. Right now I need to finish cleaning the house for Nicholas and Dominic's arrival. Well, after lunch.

Someday I'll write another poem. Hopefully someday soon, when I have time to just sit down and do it without the distraction of chores and the compulsion to suck the marrow out of every moment I have left with my family.

Short and Sweet.

Snood may just be the greatest game ever made. I discovered it during (I think) my freshman year of college (2000-01) and it was my best finals procrastination device for the next four years. What's really tragic is that, once I entered the real world (in which one performs a job far below one's qualifications, lives with one's parents, hangs out with one's married friends from high school and tries desperately to catch the eye of one's church choir director despite a significant but not enormous age gap) Snood dropped completely off my radar.

Then came grad school. It has been delightful because not only have I returned to the school that I love and the people that I love more, I also returned to my nocturnal nature. Once work is done (and the load was relatively light when I didn't have papers to grade) and one's friends have all gone to bed, there is time for Snood. Time for a stupid game more useless than Tetris but ultimately more satisfying because I can actually complete the levels, and because of its single-level rounds, I can beat the game and be back at the dinner table before anyone even notices that I'm gone. It's great.

Now, the only question that remains is this: to register, or not to register...