I Am Purple

Recently, in the process of working through The Artist's Way, I was asked to do a bit of self-reflective writing.  The task was to pick a colour and write about yourself as that colour.  I picked my favorite colour and was really surprised by how much this writing task spoke to me.  This is what I wrote:


I am purple.  

I am red and blue simultaneously. I'm Royal, rare, at times misunderstood or undervalued. I'm work to understand or create but I'm elegant. I'm distinguished. I'm irises, dreams, warm grapes in the summer.

Purple Iris photo by Melinda Wilson 

I'm complicated, a blend of hot and cold mixed with abandon and passion. I'm quiet and ferocious by turns. I'm the subtle smell of lilacs and the intoxicating smell of lavender. I'm curling Iris petals and unfurling, lavender, velvety roses.

I'm refined and a wild spirit. I'm ethereal, magical and indefinable. I'm bold and shy. I'm the sort of complex that dusk and magic are made of. Real and romantic.

Purple Irises in Colonial Williamsburg photo by Melinda Wilson

I'm a wild Violet growing amidst the cracks of a sidewalk. I'm an Iris in a formal bed lining the path to an ancient stone Manor house. I'm immutable stained glass in a cathedral and fleeting hues in a sunset over the ocean.

I'm plums with sour skin and sweet flesh. Rich smooth color. I'm silk, velvet and satin. I'm flowers and fairytales. I'm fragile hope and vibrant strength.

Purple Flower in Geneva by Melinda Wilson

History was Made This Very Evening

Most evenings do not find me communing with the collective spirit of sport frenzied enthusiasm.  In fact, most evenings that involve me and sports in the same room usually involve my unbridled invective against the barbarity of this sport or the stupidity of that one.  It's not even that I hate sports.  I simply hate watching other people play them.  I'd so much rather play the sport myself, or do anything actively, rather than watch others play sports.  However, this evening was different.

Now, maybe it's my deep American roots, but I've always had a fondness for a good ballgame.  (Not that I watch baseball often, but I tolerate the odd game here and there because I like the game.)  As a child I remember cheering on my Dad while he played in corporate ballgames.  I remember playing t-ball and Dad teaching us to bat.  My brother and I loved it when he would do the "real pitcher's wind up".  No doubt he went easy on us but we felt like pros when we would hit these real pitches.  As slightly older children we taught our dog to outfield for us so that we could take turns batting and pitching without having to run and get the ball ourselves.

So, this evening found me captivated by the world series game between the Chicago Cubs and the Cleveland Indians.  Mom, who has always been a die-hard Cubbies fan was too nervous to even sit in the room.  She feared that if she watched the Cubs would lose.  So she hovered in the adjacent doorway, fretting and finding busy work to keep her hands occupied between running in to see a play and running out of the room so as not to jinx her beloved Cubbies.

And there is something special about Cubbies fans.  They've been fans, dedicated fans, for the last 108 years without any world series wins to their credit, not since their last win in 1908.  To be fair, the Indians hadn't won a world series since 1948.  So, the stands were full of tense faces, hands over mouths and distractedly holding nervously onto baseball hats as fans of both teams watched 10 close innings.  And what a game it was.

The enthusiasm was high throughout the game.  It was exciting because it was such a close game.  With the batters who nobody expected anything of sometimes bringing it home.  So, when the Indians hit a ball at the bottom of the tenth the atmosphere was tense up until the moment that the Cubs' first baseman caught the ball and made the final out, winning the world series and delighting Cubbies fans everywhere.  A historic moment, 108 years of bad luck, curse, dryspell or whatever you would like to call it, was finally broken.  Just think about that for a minute.  People were born Cubbies fans, lived their whole lives and died without seeing the Cubs win a world series.  Almost two generations of people passed while waiting for tonight.  It has been pointed out that the last time the Cubs won the world series, Al Capone, Mark Twain, and Thomas Eddison were alive.  Tonight linked us back to a time that was a full century ago.  And I was caught up in the magic of the excitement, camaraderie and importance of this moment.  I watched history being made.  What a great feeling, knowing both teams played so well, were so close and wanted it so badly.  What a great game!  What a moment to remember.

The Lazy Luddite

Despite that fact that I have always declared myself to be a Luddite, it would seem that I am a bit too lazy to be a really good one.  I do have moments where I consider defenestration to be the only real solution to my technological woes.  And of course, stomping on things can be truly satisfying.  But I always seem to stop just short of this truly Luddite action and carry on using, though slightly grudgingly, all the most modern sorts of technology I claim to hate.  I have thought about it and I think the reason is honestly that I am too lazy to be a good Luddite.

Throwing your laptop out the window might be satisfying for a few minutes.  Then the realization of all the things you have to do over will slowly sink in.  What about all those photos I put on it?  I don't have them saved elsewhere because that requires more technology and effort and time.  And all those random documents I have on it.  Variations of CVs and resumes that I really don't want to have to recreate.  I would die of sheer boredom.  Then there is the fact that killing off your current technological device just means you'll have to replace it with another one.  As much as the old device irritates you at least you know how it works.  New devices have all these complicated features that don't work the way that logic would dictate they should.  I suppose what I'm really saying is that I hate change more than I hate technology.  I could reasonably adopt the saying "change is bad, new is terrifying" as my personal motto.

Nice little phone minding its own business.  Suddenly senses that it is being followed.

That's really the problem with technology.  They never leave things alone.  They "improve" all the things that worked until they don't work anymore, until they become the least logical way of doing things, and make your life more complicated.  At the same time the real problems never seem to be fixed or worked on.  It seems like the masters and makers of the technology change things simply for the sake of creating change and that is the epitome of evil as far as I am concerned.  So, in this way I am truly a Luddite.  I see technological advances as challenging my way of life and I resent them.  I like the old way.  I understand it.  I do not want it to change.

Heart pounding the phone runs.  It trips on a curb and falls.  Then it sees its attacker and screams.

Perhaps you are wondering why all of a sudden I felt a need to rant about technology.  What precipitated this outburst, you ask yourself?  My phone.  My nice, easy, uncomplicated phone decided that it had worked for too many years.  It decided it was done working and that it needed to die, quite suddenly, in the middle of the night dragging me into yet another clash with technology.  I suppose it is rather fitting that my phone chose to die here in Leeds, that my technological struggle takes place here in this city.  You see, Leeds is located in what used to be the West Riding of Yorkshire, which along with Lancashire, saw the largest disturbances from the Luddite movement.  So it really is fitting that my old ways are being challenged here.

Incoming call from Hammer de Muerte.  A proud moment for a true Luddite.

So, being that I hate technology and change so much, and seeing that I think that technology is pretty much magic, see my thoughts on flash drives, the question is really this... why don't I seize this opportunity to really turn Luddite and do my convictions proud?  Because it requires too much work, that's why.  As much as I complain about the way technology ruins my life, it really has to be said that it makes many things easier.  For instance, I do prefer actually writing with a pen in my hand.  I find it easier to think that way.  But who has the time to hand write essays and then type them out later?  I barely had time for all the reading I had to do as it was.  Typing out essays as I went and using flash drives was the lazy option.  When it came down to it I preferred to spend less time writing and rewriting by hand, be a bit lazy and sleep a bit more.  Have you ever met a college/university student who got enough sleep?  I haven't.  Of course, this doesn't mean that I don't write by hand.  I do keep a hand-written journal.  On occasion I scribble down random story ideas and whatnot and I absolutely adore writing in this way, with real pen and paper.  It just feels better.

But wait.  What is that?  The Luddite begins to tremble in fear.

The same can be said for communication.  I prefer writing and receiving real letters to emails, but emails are so much faster.  I do still write letters but I write less of them because it is easier to email and get responses faster.  Then too you can write one email and send it to everyone.  Rewriting the same letter over and over again can get tiring.  Then of course, if you want to discuss instant communication, phones are even better.  I never really loved talking on the phone but it simply cannot be avoided.  It is the quickest way to organize things and provides instant communication despite distance.  My mistrust of technology is slowly being overcome by my real laziness.  I like convenient things.  If one phone call can sort out all necessary plans I prefer it to ten emails back and forth.  And if I can stay in touch with family and friends on multiple continents by suffering through a little technology, then it is worth it.  A smart phone can do all of these things and more you say?  Hmm.  It doesn't mean I like technology, or even trust it, but it would seem that I will continue using it.

Is that a smartphone? Oh God the horror!

I am the worst Luddite ever.

Flash Drives: The Inner Workings

First, I should explain that my views on technology are rather odd.  Basically I believe that technology is magic.  Electricity is definitely magic.  All the explanations of how it is supposed to work has only convinced me that this is the truth.  All electronic devices are therefore run on magic. 

Let me use an example.  I have my own strange explanation for how flash drives work.  If you have ever looked at computer components and thought they looked like miniature cities you may understand where I am coming from.  Now, I don't know about your flash drive, but inside mine there is an entire city of miniature scribes.  Lots of very little scribes.

So, when I put the flash drive into my computer the scribes run out of their little city and into my computer.  They copy my word documents down super fast, there are lots of them so it doesn't take long even though they are super small.  Then they all return to my flash drive with my document stored on their little writing tablets.  They archive it neatly away in little piles that are quickly accessible if I need it again.

If I decide that I need to read my document on another computer I put in my flash drive and all the scribes run in and copy my document down again quick as lightning.  They are really good at their job.  They are scribes of the highest quality.  They are highly literate, and well-versed in different scripts (or fonts as you modern people would call them).  It takes hours of practice to attain such perfection in their art.

This is why you must remove flash drives safely.  To remove flash drives unsafely is irresponsible as it circumvents the safety features of the device and could risk the well-being of your scribes.  Clicking remove safely is the final warning that the flash drive is about to be removed and all your scribes should make sure they are safely back inside.  It clearly sets off the flashing red lights and sirens.  This saves them from danger and you from frustration when your document is incomplete or simply missing because you left behind some scribes with key parts of your document written down.  There is simply no other reasonable explanation for why you would need a safely remove feature.  It is clearly to protect the magical city of scribes from harm.

That is how flash drives really work.  Magic.  How else do you propose the miniature scribes got in there?

Welcome to the Madder Hatter blog

Hello, I am the Madder Hatter.  If you have stumbled across this blog perhaps you are thinking I must be mad to have chosen such a silly name.  Perhaps you suspect that I plan to celebrate my very merry un-birthday 364 days of the year.  Perhaps you are simply wondering what the purpose of this blog is altogether.  Well, in the words of the Mad Hatter himself, "I shall elucidate".

Let me start with the name.  I find the Mad Hatter to be a lovable character.  He is crazy and funny in his own unique way from his top hat to his absurd tea parties attended by his silly animal companions.  I suppose the real question is whether I am mad enough to take a form of his name.  

By all conventional ways of reckoning I am indeed mad.  Probably more so than most people.  First of all I am a Medievalist.  That is, I study the Middle Ages.  My love and knowledge of the Middle Ages colors the way I see the world and is the source of many of my strange ideas about it, including my views on technology, which is magic of course.  I have had the fleeting moment of doubt about my sanity.  Some days I think to myself that the world is a truly mad place and it really isn't me that is mad after all.  Truth is, the world is mad and so am I.

Now, most people who find themselves burdened by a love of the Middle Ages would take up its study as a hobby.  I am not most people.  I studied it in undergrad and decided that this was not enough.  So I went and completed an MA degree in Medieval Studies.  Upon it's completion I found myself largely, and unsurprisingly, unemployable.  So I did the most ridiculous thing imaginable and went to work for a technological company as an online researcher.  Yes, I, the girl who believes that the internet is magic, I now work for an internet company.  If this string of oddities and blatant incongruity is not enough to convince you that I am mad, then I can provide a handful of my close friends who will vouch for all the quirks in character that are requisite for such a title. 

As to Madder in particular, it is not meant to be the comparative form of mad.  It is meant to specifically refer to the color madder, a type of red, though it could, of course, work on both levels of meaning.  The color red has its own fascinating history that dates back to antiquity.  Although it is not my favorite color I chose to be associated with red because I am a proud member of a group of Scarlet Women.  The Scarlet Women are some of the most amazing people in existence, but they are part of another story.

So that is where the Madder Hatter came from.  Now all that remains is to explain the purpose of this blog.  Wait, you expect me to actually know that?  Well, I imagine it will end up being a reflection of my life, a random collection of incongruous ideas and events.  But who knows really.  This is just the start of the adventure and there is no telling where it will lead.     

Perhaps I should end with a quote.
The Mad Hatter: "Have I gone mad?"
Alice: "I'm afraid so.  You're entirely bonkers.  But I'll tell you a secret.  All the best people are."

So, I'm in good company.  And now that I have come to the end, I'll stop.