Day 16: Procrustean

Word of the Day:

procrustean

adjective

  1. tending to produce conformity by violent or arbitrary means.
  2. (initial capital letter) pertaining to or suggestive of Procrustes.

Me: “Society is a joint-stock company, in which the members agree, for the better securing of his bread to each shareholder, to surrender the liberty and culture of the eater.  The virtue in most request is conformity…”—Oh, wait…  SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME, EMERSON‽  NOW I CAN’T SEE THE WORD ‘CONFORMITY’ WITHOUT THINKING OF YOU!

As I soon learned in the Londain slums, the fir scáth  were both brutal and procrustean in their attitude towards the Morriganna.  I had come to understand that this was, in part, because they found our True forms frightening:  While we Morriganna found beauty in our chalk-pale skin, powerful wings, and night-black eyes and hair, the mortals found such features reminiscent of death.  Perhaps this was what made it so easy to believe we were natural-born killers…

Short, but whatever.  Thanks to Ralph Waldo Emerson for lending me his words from the ever-quotable “Self-Reliance.”

Cara Kennaway

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4 thoughts on “Day 16: Procrustean

    1. Indeed. I sort of want to put Novel #3 on hold for a while and write this one, but I have a few things I need to sort out first—like what the plot is, for instance. All I have right now is a setting and a few tentative characters. Then again, I started Novel #2 with less; maybe I should just give it a shot and figure the rest out as I go…

  1. “Ms. Ana, I must say, your class is quite procrustean.”

    Ms. Ana smiles warmly. “It’s so kind of you to say so. Thank you,” she replies in that infuriatingly snooty private-school-educated tone of hers. I smile back. Self-absorbed people who lack the vocabularies necessary to support their pretension are so much fun to mess with. It’s almost sad to think that I won’t be seeing her again. But there’s no way I’m coming back to this awful dance class. It is my opinion that dancing should be fun and relaxing and not involve getting smacked with a baton by a freaky dragon lady because one is not holding one’s hips in exactly the right way.

    One imagines that Ms. Ana would disagree. So I keep my thoughts to myself, leave her with my compliment which was actually meant to be a criticism, and depart to go dance alone in my bedroom. And I can assure you, when I do so, I will be holding my hips in very much the wrong way.

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