The Thing I Lose The Most and Thoughts on Reading Hemingway

Somehow I managed to buy a pair of sunglasses and lose them before I could even wear them the first time. I may misplace things but if I do lose something, it has been sunglasses. I had teased about a ghost maybe stealing one of my pillowcases when I had misplaced that, but I found it when I took it just laundered out of the dryer the next day and was glad; I’ve written some of my own true stories that may include a ghost under the tag my mystical experiences.

But if you happen to see a ghost going by wearing sunglasses, those could be mine.

And if you see a woman outside early in the morning, barefoot, and perfectly awake listening to music on a disc-man from the ‘90s, that could be me.

I have started reading The Sun Also Rises and wanted to share a little story of mine about the author Ernest Hemingway and his work. You might have read of me picking up his novels at the library on a day when I was pissed off and happily took those two off the shelf because I’d remembered him having a pissed off way of writing that I felt might match mine a little at that current time.

I feel I’d like to read this book ’til the end and am not struggling very much, but am also aware it may not be my favorite type of novel, and I am okay with that.

I had first read his writing in college and I remember that I really didn’t like it then and that to me, it exuded misery about everything, including a cringe-worthy way of forming female characters and the characters had so very often used the word ‘hell’ in ways that made me want to just stop him there (peacefully.)

When I had to critique his writing in that class, I thought then, (maybe partly out of spite; a feeling that is rare in me), ‘I think I will give this man a secret…hmm…warmth and compassion for…animals… in his stories about bull fighting, and I will write this as believably as I can.’

And I did try to word it confidently and matter of factly, but my professor who seemed to find Hemingway to be his true hero had seemed upset with this and wrote on the page, ‘There is nowhere in his work that you can show that he would’ve cared about the bulls; he was not in any way an animal activist and this was not part of his work.’

And I was wanting to write in this post about an animal anyway and now it ties in well. I like walking around outside and seeing wild bunnies in the grass. I have found nature to be much more friendly this year and there is more of a crowd of bunnies in the grass that don’t run away so easily. But I don’t like to upset the bunnies who may still look afraid, so I zoomed in to take this photo, and I will look at them from a distance, and not linger long.

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