I've neglected this blog shamefully for the past month. Admittedly, I have had a great deal of work to be done. And I've missed writing, even if the immortal echo of the pagan gods' words has been difficult to hear of late.
Christmanukkawanza is approaching - the stores blossom with red, green, gold, black, blue and silver. I dream old dreams, the memories of snow and sleighbells, and the sweet taste of freshly-roasted chestnuts on a chilly winter's evening. I enjoy this season, especially giving gifts to my friends. I must go out and buy candies to put in gold-starred bags tied up with blue ribbon to give to all my friends. I have special presents for two. I need a special present for one more...and then presents for the rest of my family. 'Tis an expensive season, as well as a jolly one.
Don't expect to hear from me til my exams are over. Viel erfolg to all other students enduring finals!
Monday, December 1, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
She lurks in the wings...
Glamour - her dark hair curling onto milk-white shoulders, the ruby gloss of her lips visible even in the backstage shadows. Her profile, as she glances at you, is so beautifully formed that Guinevere herself might hide her own in awe. And as she awaits her entrance, her timing as exquisite as ever, you can sense the impatience in her silhouetted figure, well-manicured hands idly gripping the velvet curtain.
And I dream of her, standing on the stage, finally exulting in her appearance, a single white hot spotlight illuminating every enviable feature. And Jealousy whispers in my ear and I wake, the bedclothes torn in my frenzied hands and tears of frustration on my face.
For I dream of another and he answers my call idly, distracted, and leaves to amuse himself by his lonesome - or with his ensemble - at his lightest whim. And Jealousy murmurs that the daughter of Glamour could have him on his knees worshiping her and I throw my glass at the wall just to hear it smash.
I retreat into my spiritual dive, but the dirty walls and cracked floor serve only to frustrate me as Glamour sits on a teakwood throne enveloped in silken glories and eating caviar from platinum teaspoons.
And the world calls me from my private lair and I retreat, lest it find a way to sneak in and spy upon my secret fancies and jealously-hidden fears.
Der Zauber bevorsteht - und sie ist meine Liebe.
And I dream of her, standing on the stage, finally exulting in her appearance, a single white hot spotlight illuminating every enviable feature. And Jealousy whispers in my ear and I wake, the bedclothes torn in my frenzied hands and tears of frustration on my face.
For I dream of another and he answers my call idly, distracted, and leaves to amuse himself by his lonesome - or with his ensemble - at his lightest whim. And Jealousy murmurs that the daughter of Glamour could have him on his knees worshiping her and I throw my glass at the wall just to hear it smash.
I retreat into my spiritual dive, but the dirty walls and cracked floor serve only to frustrate me as Glamour sits on a teakwood throne enveloped in silken glories and eating caviar from platinum teaspoons.
And the world calls me from my private lair and I retreat, lest it find a way to sneak in and spy upon my secret fancies and jealously-hidden fears.
Der Zauber bevorsteht - und sie ist meine Liebe.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
One-liners and whiskey bottles
There is a dive, nestled in the back streets of St. Paul that my best friend frequents: he has described it to me so that I can see the faded brick and smell the rich tobacco mixing with the stale odor of lives that have passed by. I can see the seats, with tears intimately known to all who frequent it, and I can see the low stage with its hot spotlights that has held everything from the worst of the Seattle scum to the surprisingly good jam bands that seem to appear every now and again.
I've been to plenty of dive bars in my day - from out of the way ones like Hangar 7 in Lake City, to Backstage Lounge and 1982 in Gainesville to this little one in downtown Orlando whose name perpetually escapes me. But there's a flavor about them that is different with each ones: Hangar 7 is the last gasping breath of inspiration for a dying town of backwoods hell, the rundown reminder of the mobsters who used to celebrate in the unpoliced roads and halls. Backstage Lounge is full of the pure musicians who don't mind out of the way bars full of rednecks and hooters' wings, not to mention the savory hicks who shoot pool and compete at the dartboards. 1982 is less dive and more dirt, and has the slickly raised eyebrows of any hardassed boozer exercising his right to drink his sorrows away, and maybe even pick up a pretty girl who wandered in off the street. I have fonder memories of the strange one in Orlando, mostly because I met a lover there for the first time, and when I think of it I smell his cologne and taste his lips while smooth jazz worthy of Armstrong plays in my ears.
And now, I sit here at my desk, lit by a single lamp as hot jazz is burning up my speakers, thinking of the dives that inspire me. For writing has grown difficult with the past months - brokenheartedness that left me uninspired and flagging at the dawn of each day. The only time when words even flicked near my fingers were late nights when the gin was cold and the rum warm, with the summer breeze flicking outside my walls and clouds scudding across the sky.
Now autumn has brought her gracious beauty to the land and soon winter shall follow, and in the death of the year I find new life in my writing, my dreams, and my heart. I love summer the most, but this past summer tried my love of life extremely, and only now does autumn's chill breath begin to revive me.
My life is not yet smooth: there are mortifications that stick in my throat and make the days hard to swallow, and I can only thank good fortune that there is some honey in each day to make the bitterness less objectionable. The ills are even worse for the fact it is my own weakness that wreaked them upon my life, but I shall continue to hope that I grow stronger from each healed wound, and that Fate shall not punish me for weakness in the face of beautifully cut lips, softly sworn lies and blue-gray eyes so full of deceit they should be put out and cast into the ocean for Poseidon alone to destroy.
So I return to my spiritual dive, and it is cluttered with gin and beer, the odd fragments of jaeger and vodka scattered on counters and other available surfaces. The chairs are all brown leather, the floor scraped with the passing of many stools and feet, the walls stained with sin and the remnants of wrathful folly. The band is playing away, reminding me of better days and so poignantly chording with my life I feel like Rick in Casablanca, wishing my forsaken love well away from my bloody joint.
But the day has grown old and though the night is young, the morrow is already fully appointed and I must consider the health of my body as well as of my mind. So I cast aside my crumpled papers filled with single lines and crossing-outs and I drain my last glass and ready myself for the shadowy land of nightmares with brief respite in solemn dreams.
Gute Nacht, meinen Freunden.
I've been to plenty of dive bars in my day - from out of the way ones like Hangar 7 in Lake City, to Backstage Lounge and 1982 in Gainesville to this little one in downtown Orlando whose name perpetually escapes me. But there's a flavor about them that is different with each ones: Hangar 7 is the last gasping breath of inspiration for a dying town of backwoods hell, the rundown reminder of the mobsters who used to celebrate in the unpoliced roads and halls. Backstage Lounge is full of the pure musicians who don't mind out of the way bars full of rednecks and hooters' wings, not to mention the savory hicks who shoot pool and compete at the dartboards. 1982 is less dive and more dirt, and has the slickly raised eyebrows of any hardassed boozer exercising his right to drink his sorrows away, and maybe even pick up a pretty girl who wandered in off the street. I have fonder memories of the strange one in Orlando, mostly because I met a lover there for the first time, and when I think of it I smell his cologne and taste his lips while smooth jazz worthy of Armstrong plays in my ears.
And now, I sit here at my desk, lit by a single lamp as hot jazz is burning up my speakers, thinking of the dives that inspire me. For writing has grown difficult with the past months - brokenheartedness that left me uninspired and flagging at the dawn of each day. The only time when words even flicked near my fingers were late nights when the gin was cold and the rum warm, with the summer breeze flicking outside my walls and clouds scudding across the sky.
Now autumn has brought her gracious beauty to the land and soon winter shall follow, and in the death of the year I find new life in my writing, my dreams, and my heart. I love summer the most, but this past summer tried my love of life extremely, and only now does autumn's chill breath begin to revive me.
My life is not yet smooth: there are mortifications that stick in my throat and make the days hard to swallow, and I can only thank good fortune that there is some honey in each day to make the bitterness less objectionable. The ills are even worse for the fact it is my own weakness that wreaked them upon my life, but I shall continue to hope that I grow stronger from each healed wound, and that Fate shall not punish me for weakness in the face of beautifully cut lips, softly sworn lies and blue-gray eyes so full of deceit they should be put out and cast into the ocean for Poseidon alone to destroy.
So I return to my spiritual dive, and it is cluttered with gin and beer, the odd fragments of jaeger and vodka scattered on counters and other available surfaces. The chairs are all brown leather, the floor scraped with the passing of many stools and feet, the walls stained with sin and the remnants of wrathful folly. The band is playing away, reminding me of better days and so poignantly chording with my life I feel like Rick in Casablanca, wishing my forsaken love well away from my bloody joint.
But the day has grown old and though the night is young, the morrow is already fully appointed and I must consider the health of my body as well as of my mind. So I cast aside my crumpled papers filled with single lines and crossing-outs and I drain my last glass and ready myself for the shadowy land of nightmares with brief respite in solemn dreams.
Gute Nacht, meinen Freunden.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Burying the Hatchet?
Far from it; we resurrected our friendship, and I find it glorious that he is my Hatchet and we buried the old disagreement and rekindled the friendship we thought lost.
Dare I dream this is an omen of the next bend in the road?
Dare I dream this is an omen of the next bend in the road?
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Turlington notes part deux
So my studying skills aren't quite as strong as they ought be. I brought my calculus book along with me today and I managed to concentrate for a few minutes, but the lure of dreams proved too strong, and I put down my studying to take up my pen.
Although, last night I was, as Heyer might say, "exceeding virtuous" as I went grocery shopping as soon as I dropped off my books at the dorm. I came back, cooked, ate, and immediately began to work. At 11:40 pm I put my books away, leaving only some medieval poetry and archaeological texts unread, and my calculus practice problems undone. I will do all of that tonight for tomorrow I have only the archaeology volunteering and one lecture to prepare for.
My course load is heavy, but only calculus seems burdensome - and I am particularly frustrated that tutoring is now on Sundays, which frankly does me no good at all. I need to email my tutor about some missed notes. I'll complain about the time then.
We got back our tests in MEM3300 today - I received a 102 out of 100. Technically, I got a 97 but we all got a 5 point "bonus".
And, I got a 92 in my first archaeology exam, and a 94 on forensic anthropology. If only I understood calculus the same way.
The day is gray and windy, and I like it so. The underlying restlessness suits me well, and it also fits the character of autumn - change.
And I have but to speak of that devil and the bell rings the half hour and I must go - farewell.
Although, last night I was, as Heyer might say, "exceeding virtuous" as I went grocery shopping as soon as I dropped off my books at the dorm. I came back, cooked, ate, and immediately began to work. At 11:40 pm I put my books away, leaving only some medieval poetry and archaeological texts unread, and my calculus practice problems undone. I will do all of that tonight for tomorrow I have only the archaeology volunteering and one lecture to prepare for.
My course load is heavy, but only calculus seems burdensome - and I am particularly frustrated that tutoring is now on Sundays, which frankly does me no good at all. I need to email my tutor about some missed notes. I'll complain about the time then.
We got back our tests in MEM3300 today - I received a 102 out of 100. Technically, I got a 97 but we all got a 5 point "bonus".
And, I got a 92 in my first archaeology exam, and a 94 on forensic anthropology. If only I understood calculus the same way.
The day is gray and windy, and I like it so. The underlying restlessness suits me well, and it also fits the character of autumn - change.
And I have but to speak of that devil and the bell rings the half hour and I must go - farewell.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
wrote on paper, transferred to teh netz
As I sit here in the polygon by Turlington, the sun keeps on dancing in and out of the clouds, his light growing bright and dim by turns. The wind is brisk, and though the walls shelter me, tree branches wave above me and I see the clouds racing each other across the sky.
For awhile I closed my eyes and pretended I was back in London - sitting against the pedestal of the Trafalgar Lions, the National Portrait Gallery to my right and the embassy behind me. Buses continually drive past, adding to the illusion, and skateboards over brick sound like British cars on the cobbles.
The chatter is plentiful and gay, and indistinct enough so that accents are irrelevant. Two smokers sit nearby, and the warm smell of tobacco mingles with petrol fumes in a truly English manner.
But it is merely an illusion, and when I open my eyes, I am still in America. I could easily be in worse places, but the paper folded at my side screams of bankrupt corporations, lying presidential candidates and murder.
I hear rumors and whispers as I walk, and I mark them down to investigate later.
Is Thabo Mbeki stepping down? I hope so, as long as the successor is not his own handpicked deputy degenerate.
The bell tolls the half, and I must go.
Until we meet again...
For awhile I closed my eyes and pretended I was back in London - sitting against the pedestal of the Trafalgar Lions, the National Portrait Gallery to my right and the embassy behind me. Buses continually drive past, adding to the illusion, and skateboards over brick sound like British cars on the cobbles.
The chatter is plentiful and gay, and indistinct enough so that accents are irrelevant. Two smokers sit nearby, and the warm smell of tobacco mingles with petrol fumes in a truly English manner.
But it is merely an illusion, and when I open my eyes, I am still in America. I could easily be in worse places, but the paper folded at my side screams of bankrupt corporations, lying presidential candidates and murder.
I hear rumors and whispers as I walk, and I mark them down to investigate later.
Is Thabo Mbeki stepping down? I hope so, as long as the successor is not his own handpicked deputy degenerate.
The bell tolls the half, and I must go.
Until we meet again...
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
shaky foundations indeed
My head is spinning and I know by morning it will ache. My roommates have called a roommate meeting for 8pm tomorrow to sign the roommate contract, and I dread having the thermostat permanently stuck at 70. If it is, however, I have my parents' permission to search for new housing, because living sick is extremely detrimental to both my grades and my sanity.
I dread confrontation.
I haven't painted in days, nor sketched, nor written. A test looms on the morrow, and another the day after, and a quiz the day after that. On the horizon a blissful Saturday of football beckons, but the treacherous stretch I must endure on the way precludes me from anticipating it more than in a snatched moment of prayer.
My throat is already tightening. I should've brought sweats from home this weekend.
There are far too many St. Benedicts. There are far too many saints, and not enough time to study them all. So Benedict of Aniane was a favorite of the Carolingian and a key man in the sweeping Benedictine Reform of Charlemagne...and St. Benedict, the obscure Italian abbott wrote his Benedictine Rule based off of the Rule of the anonymous Master...but what did Benedictine Biscop do? I can't remember. Who was the great man of Jarrow? Wileth? I can't remember either.
I dread tomorrow.
There is still a horrid mark on the back of my leg from wearing my knee brace two weekends ago. I say that you grow used to pain, but when it shifts constantly, it becomes more difficult to ignore.
Bedtime - they say there is no rest for the weary, but if I can't sleep within the hour I'll resort to my trusty friend Tylenol PM to rest myself somewhat adequately.
Adieu...
I dread confrontation.
I haven't painted in days, nor sketched, nor written. A test looms on the morrow, and another the day after, and a quiz the day after that. On the horizon a blissful Saturday of football beckons, but the treacherous stretch I must endure on the way precludes me from anticipating it more than in a snatched moment of prayer.
My throat is already tightening. I should've brought sweats from home this weekend.
There are far too many St. Benedicts. There are far too many saints, and not enough time to study them all. So Benedict of Aniane was a favorite of the Carolingian and a key man in the sweeping Benedictine Reform of Charlemagne...and St. Benedict, the obscure Italian abbott wrote his Benedictine Rule based off of the Rule of the anonymous Master...but what did Benedictine Biscop do? I can't remember. Who was the great man of Jarrow? Wileth? I can't remember either.
I dread tomorrow.
There is still a horrid mark on the back of my leg from wearing my knee brace two weekends ago. I say that you grow used to pain, but when it shifts constantly, it becomes more difficult to ignore.
Bedtime - they say there is no rest for the weary, but if I can't sleep within the hour I'll resort to my trusty friend Tylenol PM to rest myself somewhat adequately.
Adieu...
Monday, September 15, 2008
I will remember you
RIP Paul Lazarowitz
I can't believe you're gone. You were fighting so hard...I believed that you could do it. You are the most positive person I've ever known and I will always remember you as you were before the cancer took over.
I wish I could say thank you for all the football advice you gave me over the years. I wish I could have gone back and visited you more, especially last Christmas when I only managed to see you once - although I went twice, and you'd just checked out early. You gave me such a scare, and I was so glad that you picked up your damn phone when I called. I swear, you were surgically attached to that thing.
I hope they have big screen tvs in heaven, and that you get to watch all the football you want. I hope that you watch UF forever, and celebrate when we get our next NC, whenever that may be.
I miss you...I will always miss you
I can't believe you're gone. You were fighting so hard...I believed that you could do it. You are the most positive person I've ever known and I will always remember you as you were before the cancer took over.
I wish I could say thank you for all the football advice you gave me over the years. I wish I could have gone back and visited you more, especially last Christmas when I only managed to see you once - although I went twice, and you'd just checked out early. You gave me such a scare, and I was so glad that you picked up your damn phone when I called. I swear, you were surgically attached to that thing.
I hope they have big screen tvs in heaven, and that you get to watch all the football you want. I hope that you watch UF forever, and celebrate when we get our next NC, whenever that may be.
I miss you...I will always miss you
Monday, September 1, 2008
shadow of a doubt
My first week here in Gainesville was both busy and exhilarating - I'm all signed up for the Real Big Deal Festival (volunteer) and I have my shifts. Saturday I finish at 2 am, and then I have to be there at 10 am Sunday. :sigh:
Classes have been...interesting. Yes, interesting is the best word. I'm really enjoying them all, with the notable exception of Calc II. All I can say is thank heaven for Tutoring Zone and engineering friends who are willing to tutor you!
I finally got a chance to paint the 34th St wall, an ad for the festival, and it was a bit messier than I expected. Still fun, especially when Bobbie started painting the sidewalk and bikers kept on riding through it and getting white tires...
Oh, and we put those car paint things on three of our cars yesterday, mine being one of them. They promised the stuff would come off my baby, the only reason I allowed to them to do it. I'm washing him ASAP...but that's not for two weeks when the festival is over.
UF-Hawai'i was fun, although I'm mad that Meyer let Tebow's streak of 1 rushing TD 1 passing TD die, especially when he had that stellar opportunity right there in front of him. Still, we won after playing a REALLY conservative game, so it was nice. The pouring rain before start time sucked though.
I can't wait to play Miami! Night game in the Swamp with the ESPN Gameday crew there...now THAT'S what I'm talking about!
Classes have been...interesting. Yes, interesting is the best word. I'm really enjoying them all, with the notable exception of Calc II. All I can say is thank heaven for Tutoring Zone and engineering friends who are willing to tutor you!
I finally got a chance to paint the 34th St wall, an ad for the festival, and it was a bit messier than I expected. Still fun, especially when Bobbie started painting the sidewalk and bikers kept on riding through it and getting white tires...
Oh, and we put those car paint things on three of our cars yesterday, mine being one of them. They promised the stuff would come off my baby, the only reason I allowed to them to do it. I'm washing him ASAP...but that's not for two weeks when the festival is over.
UF-Hawai'i was fun, although I'm mad that Meyer let Tebow's streak of 1 rushing TD 1 passing TD die, especially when he had that stellar opportunity right there in front of him. Still, we won after playing a REALLY conservative game, so it was nice. The pouring rain before start time sucked though.
I can't wait to play Miami! Night game in the Swamp with the ESPN Gameday crew there...now THAT'S what I'm talking about!
Saturday, August 23, 2008
It's time to end my lonely holiday
and bid Orlando a hasty farewell...
...I might have left two days ago, but it doesn't feel like I've spent two days here in Gainesville once more.
I woke up around 7 am Thursday and raced up here to beat Fay, and did so comfortably. Unfortunately, she arrived as I was grocery shopping and I had to rush my milk and eggs inside in the driving rain.
Yesterday I intended to walk the routes between my classes, but I took one look at the miserable weather and stayed inside, enjoying the warmth of a cuddly blue bathrobe and my pillows.
Today I bought some textbooks, and will try and get my last one tomorrow. I could go pick up some more groceries and random odds and ends but I feel strangely reluctant to leave.
I'll be seeing Tropic Thunder tonight with a friend and some of his friends...we'll see how that goes. I've heard great reviews, so I'm hoping it'll be funny.
Is it football season yet?
What's that you say?
I must wait until...Thursday?
Damn!
...I might have left two days ago, but it doesn't feel like I've spent two days here in Gainesville once more.
I woke up around 7 am Thursday and raced up here to beat Fay, and did so comfortably. Unfortunately, she arrived as I was grocery shopping and I had to rush my milk and eggs inside in the driving rain.
Yesterday I intended to walk the routes between my classes, but I took one look at the miserable weather and stayed inside, enjoying the warmth of a cuddly blue bathrobe and my pillows.
Today I bought some textbooks, and will try and get my last one tomorrow. I could go pick up some more groceries and random odds and ends but I feel strangely reluctant to leave.
I'll be seeing Tropic Thunder tonight with a friend and some of his friends...we'll see how that goes. I've heard great reviews, so I'm hoping it'll be funny.
Is it football season yet?
What's that you say?
I must wait until...Thursday?
Damn!
Saturday, August 9, 2008
It had to be you
Could I be glad to be sad, thinking of you?
Harry Connick Jr. is a genius. Just thought I'd throw that out there. I haven't found a version of "It Had To Be You" that can even begin to compare with his. And I love his "Let's Call The Whole Thing Off" too...
Today was not the brightest of days. I was woken unkindly at 8 am, reminded that I had to drive to the garage to pick up my mother who dropped off my father's car, my father having callously appropriated MY car for the day. When I returned home my mother went off to work, taking my sister with her, and I decided it was naptime. Then there was more delightfully bad football news throughout the day, so despite it being Friday, I have sunk into a gloomy funk, and seem destined to stay here awhile.
In an effort to make the best of things I have put on my favorite "big band" playlist - Nina Simone, Harry Connick Jr., Peggy Lee, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Fred Astaire, Billie Holliday, even some Michael Buble as a nod to this generation of revival.
I love Peggy Lee's "Fever" more than ever since Sex and the City the Movie used it in their promo trailers. I remember how my heart thumped when it started playing before whatever movie I'd gone to see...and how it thumped again when I realized it was for Sex and the City. I'm so glad that the movie didn't disappoint - it was fabulous. For no other word could justly be used to describe Sex and the City, now could it?
I think I'll end here, and go to bed. Sleep is the fastest way for Tomorrow to come, and Today has been a cold lover, so I'll leave the known pestilence for an unknown one.
Sorry Hamlet.
Harry Connick Jr. is a genius. Just thought I'd throw that out there. I haven't found a version of "It Had To Be You" that can even begin to compare with his. And I love his "Let's Call The Whole Thing Off" too...
Today was not the brightest of days. I was woken unkindly at 8 am, reminded that I had to drive to the garage to pick up my mother who dropped off my father's car, my father having callously appropriated MY car for the day. When I returned home my mother went off to work, taking my sister with her, and I decided it was naptime. Then there was more delightfully bad football news throughout the day, so despite it being Friday, I have sunk into a gloomy funk, and seem destined to stay here awhile.
In an effort to make the best of things I have put on my favorite "big band" playlist - Nina Simone, Harry Connick Jr., Peggy Lee, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Fred Astaire, Billie Holliday, even some Michael Buble as a nod to this generation of revival.
I love Peggy Lee's "Fever" more than ever since Sex and the City the Movie used it in their promo trailers. I remember how my heart thumped when it started playing before whatever movie I'd gone to see...and how it thumped again when I realized it was for Sex and the City. I'm so glad that the movie didn't disappoint - it was fabulous. For no other word could justly be used to describe Sex and the City, now could it?
I think I'll end here, and go to bed. Sleep is the fastest way for Tomorrow to come, and Today has been a cold lover, so I'll leave the known pestilence for an unknown one.
Sorry Hamlet.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Early morning dreams casually wither
- but only in the bright light of day.
I have been abominably plagued with insomnia for weeks now. This coupled with joblessness and writer's block has not made my life particularly pleasant. But today at about 6 a.m., after tossing and turning for at least an hour after a few hours' blessed sleep, I finally decided to make the best of a bad job and just "get up".
And of course, by "get up", I mean fold my duvet in half so that it only covers to my knees, leaving my sheet up where it normally is, getting one of my sham pillows to prop myself on, turning on my bedside lamp, the television and my faithful laptop.
Insomnia - 296,357 Sleep - 0
Originally I was watching Animal Planet, a half-hour "cable in the classroom" documentary on giraffes. It was very interesting, especially when I realized that the Kenyan park they were showing is quite likely the one Professor Palmer works in every summer. I wonder if he's there now? I didn't realize that giraffes' patterns were unique to the animal. The naturalist AP interviewed kept track of them by photographing the left side of their neck, and cataloging them until he had about 240 animals. Twenty years after his original stint in Kenya he came back with his team to see if they could recognize any of the animals (giraffes typically live 25 years) and they found one - Mabel. I'd have thought they'd find more, but the documentary didn't say.
Right now VH1 is on. Every half-hour I flick to Nickelodeon to see if Rugrats is on. If I must suffer from insomnia, I'm going to get something out of it!
Natasha Bedingfield's "Pocketful of Sunshine" just came on. I like this song, but I'm not sure I like the underlying synth. That and she's much too lovely for her own good.
Yesterday I drove up to UF to watch the football practice. I didn't on Monday because of a doctor's appointment, I can't today because of my last jewelry class of the session, and if anyone thinks I'm driving up to UF for the day twice or thrice in one week to watch football practice is crazier than I am for driving up to UF to sit in the sun for three hours plagued with bugs and jealousy for the beautiful cameras that the media possesses...
I would just like to interject that it is damned unfair that the fans can't use cameras at the practices. What on earth could we photograph that a professional member of the media couldn't? It's not like they practice anything we haven't seen before at the open week!
So it seems that I can write after all. Perhaps this would be a good time to look at my manuscripts again. I miss them, I miss writing. I miss them almost as much as I miss UF when it's the holidays, and how much I miss being on holiday when I'm at UF...
I have been abominably plagued with insomnia for weeks now. This coupled with joblessness and writer's block has not made my life particularly pleasant. But today at about 6 a.m., after tossing and turning for at least an hour after a few hours' blessed sleep, I finally decided to make the best of a bad job and just "get up".
And of course, by "get up", I mean fold my duvet in half so that it only covers to my knees, leaving my sheet up where it normally is, getting one of my sham pillows to prop myself on, turning on my bedside lamp, the television and my faithful laptop.
Insomnia - 296,357 Sleep - 0
Originally I was watching Animal Planet, a half-hour "cable in the classroom" documentary on giraffes. It was very interesting, especially when I realized that the Kenyan park they were showing is quite likely the one Professor Palmer works in every summer. I wonder if he's there now? I didn't realize that giraffes' patterns were unique to the animal. The naturalist AP interviewed kept track of them by photographing the left side of their neck, and cataloging them until he had about 240 animals. Twenty years after his original stint in Kenya he came back with his team to see if they could recognize any of the animals (giraffes typically live 25 years) and they found one - Mabel. I'd have thought they'd find more, but the documentary didn't say.
Right now VH1 is on. Every half-hour I flick to Nickelodeon to see if Rugrats is on. If I must suffer from insomnia, I'm going to get something out of it!
Natasha Bedingfield's "Pocketful of Sunshine" just came on. I like this song, but I'm not sure I like the underlying synth. That and she's much too lovely for her own good.
Yesterday I drove up to UF to watch the football practice. I didn't on Monday because of a doctor's appointment, I can't today because of my last jewelry class of the session, and if anyone thinks I'm driving up to UF for the day twice or thrice in one week to watch football practice is crazier than I am for driving up to UF to sit in the sun for three hours plagued with bugs and jealousy for the beautiful cameras that the media possesses...
I would just like to interject that it is damned unfair that the fans can't use cameras at the practices. What on earth could we photograph that a professional member of the media couldn't? It's not like they practice anything we haven't seen before at the open week!
So it seems that I can write after all. Perhaps this would be a good time to look at my manuscripts again. I miss them, I miss writing. I miss them almost as much as I miss UF when it's the holidays, and how much I miss being on holiday when I'm at UF...
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
toothsome addition to my life
Spent an hour in my dentist's clutches today, getting four cavities filled on the right side of my mouth. Will have two more filled tomorrow on the left side of my mouth.
Public Service Announcement #2: Kids, no matter how much your gums swell and bleed when you do it, floss your teeth daily. Or you will be screwed over one day with 6 cavities between your teeth...which are the WORST kind of cavities to be filled.
This summer has proven to destroy my lofty expectations of writing reams of prose and producing dozens of exquisite pieces of silver jewelry.
I've suffered severe writers' block for the past two months, and I've produced only three complete pieces in my jewelry class so far, and am about to finish a fourth. I'll only have time for one more, two if I'm lucky. It's been fun though. Once my sister and I get our equipment - a very large joint Christmas present - we'll be able to make a lot more, since we get to use it more than once a week for three hours.
But I have gotten a lot of sleep in. And a cute pair of Miu-Miu glasses for reading and close-up work. So, this summer hasn't been a total waste.
Public Service Announcement #2: Kids, no matter how much your gums swell and bleed when you do it, floss your teeth daily. Or you will be screwed over one day with 6 cavities between your teeth...which are the WORST kind of cavities to be filled.
This summer has proven to destroy my lofty expectations of writing reams of prose and producing dozens of exquisite pieces of silver jewelry.
I've suffered severe writers' block for the past two months, and I've produced only three complete pieces in my jewelry class so far, and am about to finish a fourth. I'll only have time for one more, two if I'm lucky. It's been fun though. Once my sister and I get our equipment - a very large joint Christmas present - we'll be able to make a lot more, since we get to use it more than once a week for three hours.
But I have gotten a lot of sleep in. And a cute pair of Miu-Miu glasses for reading and close-up work. So, this summer hasn't been a total waste.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
showers and sprains and seizures, oh my!
So I will remain jobless this summer, even after hunting down half the businesses in the Orlando area with "help wanted" signs in the window.
C'est la vie.
In other news, a few weeks ago I managed to sprain my back. It's really embarrassing too - I was over at a friend's house and we were playing with his cat. His mattress is on the floor, and we were sitting against it, and the cat was running around us and we were throwing her mouse for her, pulling strings across the floor...my back started to hurt so I stood up and POP!
...I mean really, if I had to sprain my back, couldn't I do it saving a small child from being run over, or something similarly heroic?
So after two weeks of intense pain, I went to my doctor yesterday and she poked around, hit my legs a couple times, and decided I had probably pulled a muscle, and prescribed muscle relaxants. However, if my back still hurts in August when I go back for my "feminine health" exam (the new politically correct name for a PAP smear) she will send me off for x-rays.
I really hope it doesn't still hurt in August - not wanting a severe back injury aside, I can only imagine being in this much pain for five more weeks.
I was iffy about getting the medicine she prescribed because I read the information on the sample bottle that she gave me, and apparently the major side effect with this drug is seizures.
I kid you not. A muscle relaxant that causes seizures.
So, I am taking a half-pill every morning, and another one every evening, and praying that the lower dose will keep me safe. Not to mention you absolutely can't drink alcohol while taking this (boo!!) so there goes my partying.
But the intense pain I was in this morning decided me. I can party when I go back to UF - right now I need to fix my back!
So remember kids, when you play with cats, switch positions often, do not lean against low-lying mattresses, and be very careful standing up!
C'est la vie.
In other news, a few weeks ago I managed to sprain my back. It's really embarrassing too - I was over at a friend's house and we were playing with his cat. His mattress is on the floor, and we were sitting against it, and the cat was running around us and we were throwing her mouse for her, pulling strings across the floor...my back started to hurt so I stood up and POP!
...I mean really, if I had to sprain my back, couldn't I do it saving a small child from being run over, or something similarly heroic?
So after two weeks of intense pain, I went to my doctor yesterday and she poked around, hit my legs a couple times, and decided I had probably pulled a muscle, and prescribed muscle relaxants. However, if my back still hurts in August when I go back for my "feminine health" exam (the new politically correct name for a PAP smear) she will send me off for x-rays.
I really hope it doesn't still hurt in August - not wanting a severe back injury aside, I can only imagine being in this much pain for five more weeks.
I was iffy about getting the medicine she prescribed because I read the information on the sample bottle that she gave me, and apparently the major side effect with this drug is seizures.
I kid you not. A muscle relaxant that causes seizures.
So, I am taking a half-pill every morning, and another one every evening, and praying that the lower dose will keep me safe. Not to mention you absolutely can't drink alcohol while taking this (boo!!) so there goes my partying.
But the intense pain I was in this morning decided me. I can party when I go back to UF - right now I need to fix my back!
So remember kids, when you play with cats, switch positions often, do not lean against low-lying mattresses, and be very careful standing up!
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Long time, no post.
Due to a variety of reasons, I haven't had the heart to post in awhile. One of the biggest is that my love people/hate people balance has tipped alarmingly to the "hate people" side and is only now leveling back off.
Mostly because when I'm online and people instant message me, they can't talk about anything interesting, relaxing, or fun. No, they have to be aggressively annoying and bug me about "why you don't have a job yet", offering millions of stupid suggestions and possible explanations. I don't want to think about it! I have been dying for an SLR for months now, and if I don't get a job, I can't afford one. Period.
People, don't stress out your already stressed-out friends. They will retaliate in kind as soon as they get an opportunity.
Two nice things: I bought Albert Camus' "The Stranger", and Agatha Christie's "The Murder of Roger Akroyd" a few days ago and will settle down to read them sometime soon. They're two books I've been longing to add to my (small) collection for months now. I am also going to order Rafaella Barker's "Summertime" off Amazon, and then call it quits...that "no job" thing getting in the way once more.
My room is near completion, but at a total standstill.
I need to get my portrait framed and hung before I can hang my bulletin board - and yet the picture is mysteriously "missing".
I need my bookcase mended so that it can be moved in and filled with my books, which are currently being kicked around the living room floor - but there is no time for that, even though there is plenty of time to lounge in the pool with a beer.
I need assistance to hang my mirror - but everyone is busy when I bring the matter up.
I need a screw placed in my ceiling so that my lantern can be hung from it - but it is never the right time to put a screw in the ceiling!
I should also like a shoe-rack to hold my 26 pairs of shoes that now sit all around my bed, and one of those square-shelved "bookcases" to keep my magazines in, as well as a computer chair so that I can sit at my desk without intense back pain from being at the wrong height...but everyone disappears when I mention a trip to Target or Ikea.
Funny, isn't it?
Ah. Apparently now is the time to go prepare the fish for dinner! I can only wonder when the time to prepare my room for completion will come...
Mostly because when I'm online and people instant message me, they can't talk about anything interesting, relaxing, or fun. No, they have to be aggressively annoying and bug me about "why you don't have a job yet", offering millions of stupid suggestions and possible explanations. I don't want to think about it! I have been dying for an SLR for months now, and if I don't get a job, I can't afford one. Period.
People, don't stress out your already stressed-out friends. They will retaliate in kind as soon as they get an opportunity.
Two nice things: I bought Albert Camus' "The Stranger", and Agatha Christie's "The Murder of Roger Akroyd" a few days ago and will settle down to read them sometime soon. They're two books I've been longing to add to my (small) collection for months now. I am also going to order Rafaella Barker's "Summertime" off Amazon, and then call it quits...that "no job" thing getting in the way once more.
My room is near completion, but at a total standstill.
I need to get my portrait framed and hung before I can hang my bulletin board - and yet the picture is mysteriously "missing".
I need my bookcase mended so that it can be moved in and filled with my books, which are currently being kicked around the living room floor - but there is no time for that, even though there is plenty of time to lounge in the pool with a beer.
I need assistance to hang my mirror - but everyone is busy when I bring the matter up.
I need a screw placed in my ceiling so that my lantern can be hung from it - but it is never the right time to put a screw in the ceiling!
I should also like a shoe-rack to hold my 26 pairs of shoes that now sit all around my bed, and one of those square-shelved "bookcases" to keep my magazines in, as well as a computer chair so that I can sit at my desk without intense back pain from being at the wrong height...but everyone disappears when I mention a trip to Target or Ikea.
Funny, isn't it?
Ah. Apparently now is the time to go prepare the fish for dinner! I can only wonder when the time to prepare my room for completion will come...
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Friday, May 2, 2008
what happens now?
Raine Maida sings so eloquently, "And if I don't make it, know that I loved you all along - just like sunny days that we ignore because we're all dumb and jaded. And I hope to God I figure out what's wrong!"
Then so many people fall to their knees and bow their heads in shame and humility because it's exactly what they were so desperate to express and had no idea how to, because he gave them the release they longed for.
Yet...what happens when you've made it? What happens when the world threw you curve ball after curve ball and you fell down over and over, and you resorted to the bottles and the pills and believed you needed a Prozac world to come out on top, and held up your friends' heads as they vomited and forced water down their throats so they wouldn't die of dehydration and shook them when they were sober and told them this was not the way to be, and realized it yourself: and then the impossible happens - you make it.
You make it, you can drink and not get trashed four times out of five, you stop the pills, you make the good decisions, and you can breathe and laugh and love without the Prozac.
And the world is beautiful.
But even though you've made it, your friends haven't. The ones you love, the ones you would gladly sacrifice almost anything for. What if you're on top of the world and singing, and they're still on their knees with the beer bongs in their mouths and the ecstasy growing warm and sticky in their hands?
How do you stop them? How do you give them what you have? How do you tell them that Superman isn't dead?
How can you stop them from killing themselves - from dragging you back into the bottles in the process?
For no man - woman - is an island, and with five friends already buried I know that turning my back and letting my heart break as they're lowered into the ground would destroy everything that I've worked and fought and suffered for.
And yet - how do I make them want what I have? And what's worse - how do I tell them how to get it, when I shouldn't even be alive to have it?
How can I make them believe in something I don't want to remember?
Then so many people fall to their knees and bow their heads in shame and humility because it's exactly what they were so desperate to express and had no idea how to, because he gave them the release they longed for.
Yet...what happens when you've made it? What happens when the world threw you curve ball after curve ball and you fell down over and over, and you resorted to the bottles and the pills and believed you needed a Prozac world to come out on top, and held up your friends' heads as they vomited and forced water down their throats so they wouldn't die of dehydration and shook them when they were sober and told them this was not the way to be, and realized it yourself: and then the impossible happens - you make it.
You make it, you can drink and not get trashed four times out of five, you stop the pills, you make the good decisions, and you can breathe and laugh and love without the Prozac.
And the world is beautiful.
But even though you've made it, your friends haven't. The ones you love, the ones you would gladly sacrifice almost anything for. What if you're on top of the world and singing, and they're still on their knees with the beer bongs in their mouths and the ecstasy growing warm and sticky in their hands?
How do you stop them? How do you give them what you have? How do you tell them that Superman isn't dead?
How can you stop them from killing themselves - from dragging you back into the bottles in the process?
For no man - woman - is an island, and with five friends already buried I know that turning my back and letting my heart break as they're lowered into the ground would destroy everything that I've worked and fought and suffered for.
And yet - how do I make them want what I have? And what's worse - how do I tell them how to get it, when I shouldn't even be alive to have it?
How can I make them believe in something I don't want to remember?
Monday, March 17, 2008
to do lists and checkout lines
I need to visit the Wizard of Oz. And get potions that will make me scholarly and inclined to study.
However, the closest I'm going to get is calling the advisory office tomorrow and making an appointment and throwing a hissy fit because I got bad information last time I went there. Thanks a lot adviser, you're really helping my cause.
Icky day. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better.
However, the closest I'm going to get is calling the advisory office tomorrow and making an appointment and throwing a hissy fit because I got bad information last time I went there. Thanks a lot adviser, you're really helping my cause.
Icky day. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
chem-is-TRY, chem-is-TRY
I can't study anymore...my brain is about to implode...
Took my 5A/5B unknowns in chem lab today. It was so stressful, not only because of how difficult it was, but the TA's stand is right behind me so people are constantly lining up, brushing past me, bumping into me when I'm measuring out 6M HCl...
5A took me five minutes too long and I was really unhappy with it, but I got a sensible answer and the pH and the ions correlated, so I feel fairly...secure...about that one.
5B though...oh such a nightmare. First, my flame refused to change color, and when I dipped my wire in water to get more of the unknown on it, the unknown expanded alarmingly and glowed and turned into the shape of a fat round white sheep (Abby saw it so I have proof) and I was going to keep it, only it wasn't as solid as I fancied and shattered when I put the wire down.
Then there was no smell for the ammonia test, but one hairs-width sliver of the litmus turned blue so I redid the whole thing and it was scentless and pink this time so I gave up....and then freaked out when heating off the step 6 soluble solution gave off white smoke and smelled like ammonia! I decided there was none though. You can smell it for miles when you add NaOH and I couldn't smell a damn thing.
It didn't bubble and the pH was much too low to be consistent with a carbonate, so that did make me feel better.
The rest went fairly smoothly - especially the magnesium precipitate, it was this pretty moonstone colored goo - until I realized that I had 15 minutes left and some skank had stolen BOTH bottles of silver nitrate! Which I needed desperately to tell me if some ion was there or not, and I freaked out and did the second two anions then started scouring the lab until the TA asked what on earth I was doing and I replied that I needed the silver nitrate or I would strangle somebody. He immediately swept off and found some and respectfully request of Karma that he gets like, 5000 bonus karma points for that.
And after all that that ion wasn't present. But I knew for sure and it made me very happy.
I turned it in with 3 minutes to go, feeling very proud of myself that I recognized a pH equation from my labwork earlier and could explain why a mixture with Mg(OH)2 had a pH of 3.5 (you have to look at the aluminum ion) and I was reasonably assured that I'd done well.
I really have to start studying again.
...why am I a chemistry major when all I want to do is look Chemistry in the eye and say, "Yippie-kai-yay, motherfucker!"?
Took my 5A/5B unknowns in chem lab today. It was so stressful, not only because of how difficult it was, but the TA's stand is right behind me so people are constantly lining up, brushing past me, bumping into me when I'm measuring out 6M HCl...
5A took me five minutes too long and I was really unhappy with it, but I got a sensible answer and the pH and the ions correlated, so I feel fairly...secure...about that one.
5B though...oh such a nightmare. First, my flame refused to change color, and when I dipped my wire in water to get more of the unknown on it, the unknown expanded alarmingly and glowed and turned into the shape of a fat round white sheep (Abby saw it so I have proof) and I was going to keep it, only it wasn't as solid as I fancied and shattered when I put the wire down.
Then there was no smell for the ammonia test, but one hairs-width sliver of the litmus turned blue so I redid the whole thing and it was scentless and pink this time so I gave up....and then freaked out when heating off the step 6 soluble solution gave off white smoke and smelled like ammonia! I decided there was none though. You can smell it for miles when you add NaOH and I couldn't smell a damn thing.
It didn't bubble and the pH was much too low to be consistent with a carbonate, so that did make me feel better.
The rest went fairly smoothly - especially the magnesium precipitate, it was this pretty moonstone colored goo - until I realized that I had 15 minutes left and some skank had stolen BOTH bottles of silver nitrate! Which I needed desperately to tell me if some ion was there or not, and I freaked out and did the second two anions then started scouring the lab until the TA asked what on earth I was doing and I replied that I needed the silver nitrate or I would strangle somebody. He immediately swept off and found some and respectfully request of Karma that he gets like, 5000 bonus karma points for that.
And after all that that ion wasn't present. But I knew for sure and it made me very happy.
I turned it in with 3 minutes to go, feeling very proud of myself that I recognized a pH equation from my labwork earlier and could explain why a mixture with Mg(OH)2 had a pH of 3.5 (you have to look at the aluminum ion) and I was reasonably assured that I'd done well.
I really have to start studying again.
...why am I a chemistry major when all I want to do is look Chemistry in the eye and say, "Yippie-kai-yay, motherfucker!"?
Thursday, February 28, 2008
two a.m. litanies
As the clock winds down I start to dream again; dreams that never seem to flourish in daylight. Memories of the girl I once was, and wonderings about the girl I seem to be destined to become.
There is glamour in the offing: I watch myself type, neatly manicured fingernails betraying my fixation with outward appearances. Soft melodies play through my speakers, and brief flashes of inspiration flare, and die down as quickly.
My physical journal lies abandoned on the sill: after writing for four to six hours a day I am disinclined to write more, preferring to type here, which I can do quickly and without cramping.
Perhaps this spring break I can slowly ease back into the habit of writing daily.
Looking at my desk, I notice how the girlish and the masculine blend together seamlessly: a Vera Bradley calendar stands next to a black desk lamp festooned with strings and strings of Marti Gras beads; to my left wristbands from multiple shows as well as ticket stubs from all the Gator football home games and the Capital One Bowl are pinned to the corkboard, my Nikon on its stand nearby, and a small pink standing mirror is positioned so that I can see my hands as I type.
I look to my right and stop at my easel. The painting I worked on all yesterday has dried, but I haven't continued working on it yet: the urge to paint died last night and it hasn't yet returned.
It grows late and there is a freeze warning from midnight (two hours ago) til nine in the morning, so I will betake myself to bed and get some sleep. I cannot wait for summer and feeling warm at night once more.
Au revoir, mes amis.
There is glamour in the offing: I watch myself type, neatly manicured fingernails betraying my fixation with outward appearances. Soft melodies play through my speakers, and brief flashes of inspiration flare, and die down as quickly.
My physical journal lies abandoned on the sill: after writing for four to six hours a day I am disinclined to write more, preferring to type here, which I can do quickly and without cramping.
Perhaps this spring break I can slowly ease back into the habit of writing daily.
Looking at my desk, I notice how the girlish and the masculine blend together seamlessly: a Vera Bradley calendar stands next to a black desk lamp festooned with strings and strings of Marti Gras beads; to my left wristbands from multiple shows as well as ticket stubs from all the Gator football home games and the Capital One Bowl are pinned to the corkboard, my Nikon on its stand nearby, and a small pink standing mirror is positioned so that I can see my hands as I type.
I look to my right and stop at my easel. The painting I worked on all yesterday has dried, but I haven't continued working on it yet: the urge to paint died last night and it hasn't yet returned.
It grows late and there is a freeze warning from midnight (two hours ago) til nine in the morning, so I will betake myself to bed and get some sleep. I cannot wait for summer and feeling warm at night once more.
Au revoir, mes amis.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Just a flash in the night
I can't figure out why I've had so much trouble sleeping at night recently. The naps in the afternoon might not help my cause much, but I wouldn't be able to survive without them!
Today is nominally my easy day, just two early classes then free time, but after coming home and washing all my dishes then cooking immediately afterward I was so tired that I simply passed out.
Woke up around three, wrote for a little, but Rebecca was obdurate today, and I couldn't coax much out of her. I found it amusing once, how writers talk of their characters as real people, but now that I've grown up and begun to write my own characters down, I'm amused no longer, especially when the characters have sulky fits and attitudes.
Went out to dinner around six with Ryan and Jessica - Bistro again. I'm starting to miss Moe's now that we haven't gone for three weeks. And there's only one week before spring break so if we're not careful it'll be a whole month and a half before we get back to Moe's nights again...
Once my studying was out of the way I spent the evening painting with the tv on. Worked on three or four different canvasses, and I'm almost done with Femme. I am really starting to loathe Microscope and am seriously considering painting over it. Maybe mother would like it for her classroom...use it to scare naughty children into obedience.
And once again 1 am rolls around and my dishes are unwashed and I am not asleep. Oh well. Nothing glamorous happens before midnight anyway, right? Bonne nuit...
Today is nominally my easy day, just two early classes then free time, but after coming home and washing all my dishes then cooking immediately afterward I was so tired that I simply passed out.
Woke up around three, wrote for a little, but Rebecca was obdurate today, and I couldn't coax much out of her. I found it amusing once, how writers talk of their characters as real people, but now that I've grown up and begun to write my own characters down, I'm amused no longer, especially when the characters have sulky fits and attitudes.
Went out to dinner around six with Ryan and Jessica - Bistro again. I'm starting to miss Moe's now that we haven't gone for three weeks. And there's only one week before spring break so if we're not careful it'll be a whole month and a half before we get back to Moe's nights again...
Once my studying was out of the way I spent the evening painting with the tv on. Worked on three or four different canvasses, and I'm almost done with Femme. I am really starting to loathe Microscope and am seriously considering painting over it. Maybe mother would like it for her classroom...use it to scare naughty children into obedience.
And once again 1 am rolls around and my dishes are unwashed and I am not asleep. Oh well. Nothing glamorous happens before midnight anyway, right? Bonne nuit...
Sunday, February 24, 2008
I can feel it in the air
"The more things seem to change the more they stay the same." - Corinne Bailey Rae
Walking outside tonight the chill in the air was weakening; there is a fragrance lingering on the faint puffs of wind that grows stronger rather than dissipating. Memories start awakening from their winter sleeps, glimpses of friends and boys and shows and moonlight nights glistening with tears flash before my eyes once again.
My fingers are once again inspired to type, my soul stretches and grows.
Change is in the air, and my love of all loves - Summer - approaches me, elusive and ethereal.
Summer! I am not worthy of singing her praises. What are my lips to speak of her brilliant sunny days, the perfumed breezes she wraps around herself, the greenness she bestows on the trees and brush, and the feelings she awakens in man and beast?
Spring may be a lovely azure, filled with zest and renovation after the flinging down of the gauntlet of Winter, but she pales in comparison to the luxury and exuberance of her sister. Who but Summer populates the world in brightly colored flowers and fills the nights with warm moons and glitteringly starry skies?
What other season lays claim to lovers' hearts and that wild fragrant fancy we so aptly name "summer love"?
What other season breathes life into us like champagne bubbles overflowing a bottle with newly cut wires?
What other season do children long for, and all the inner children of the staid and sober adults secretly exult in?
O' pity that I cannot sing her praises truly, but blessed mercy that I may sing them at all, for I, a child of Summer, have some right to love her dearly.
She may not have Winter's sleek austerity, nor Autumn's decided advance and harvested treasures, nor Spring's joyous arrival but she has her own jubilation, a season of true munificence and glory.
'Tis true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true - and yet I long for Summer.
Walking outside tonight the chill in the air was weakening; there is a fragrance lingering on the faint puffs of wind that grows stronger rather than dissipating. Memories start awakening from their winter sleeps, glimpses of friends and boys and shows and moonlight nights glistening with tears flash before my eyes once again.
My fingers are once again inspired to type, my soul stretches and grows.
Change is in the air, and my love of all loves - Summer - approaches me, elusive and ethereal.
Summer! I am not worthy of singing her praises. What are my lips to speak of her brilliant sunny days, the perfumed breezes she wraps around herself, the greenness she bestows on the trees and brush, and the feelings she awakens in man and beast?
Spring may be a lovely azure, filled with zest and renovation after the flinging down of the gauntlet of Winter, but she pales in comparison to the luxury and exuberance of her sister. Who but Summer populates the world in brightly colored flowers and fills the nights with warm moons and glitteringly starry skies?
What other season lays claim to lovers' hearts and that wild fragrant fancy we so aptly name "summer love"?
What other season breathes life into us like champagne bubbles overflowing a bottle with newly cut wires?
What other season do children long for, and all the inner children of the staid and sober adults secretly exult in?
O' pity that I cannot sing her praises truly, but blessed mercy that I may sing them at all, for I, a child of Summer, have some right to love her dearly.
She may not have Winter's sleek austerity, nor Autumn's decided advance and harvested treasures, nor Spring's joyous arrival but she has her own jubilation, a season of true munificence and glory.
'Tis true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true - and yet I long for Summer.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
blinded by moonlight
Went out with Scott Mattimore, amateur photographer and cinematographer, last night. We hit up The Side Bar, and saw Artemis Freezing, The Pendletons, and Velveteen Pink.
I loved Artemis Freezing, and the Pendletons were good, and so was Velveteen Pink, but AF totally stole the show. The bassist's string broke during the first song so they played Beatles til he got another bass. It was awesome and Scott loved it because he's a huge Beatles fan.
Scott thinks I should start modeling again. Who knows, maybe if I lose those last ten pounds (five I gained after the breakup and five I wanted to get rid of anyway), maybe I will.
I'm watching The Replacements. I heart this movie. It is ridiculously cute, and I wish more people liked it.
I have nothing to say and have said it, but I never like to remain silent too long, for fear that I will forget all that I've done.
I loved Artemis Freezing, and the Pendletons were good, and so was Velveteen Pink, but AF totally stole the show. The bassist's string broke during the first song so they played Beatles til he got another bass. It was awesome and Scott loved it because he's a huge Beatles fan.
Scott thinks I should start modeling again. Who knows, maybe if I lose those last ten pounds (five I gained after the breakup and five I wanted to get rid of anyway), maybe I will.
I'm watching The Replacements. I heart this movie. It is ridiculously cute, and I wish more people liked it.
I have nothing to say and have said it, but I never like to remain silent too long, for fear that I will forget all that I've done.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Studying? Nope, sorry, never heard of it.
And so the first rush of testing commences: Chemistry on Thursday, Anthropology on Friday, Calculus on Monday, and Music whenever it damn well pleases.
I can't pretend to understand my music class, and it's probably just as well, the teacher seems to have an inbred hatred towards Western culture. Why, I don't know, but the fact remains that he prefers John Cage and Javanese gamelan concerts to rock 'n roll. 'Tis sad, 'tis true...
The weather has been far too cold. It leaves me uninspired and makes me miserable, especially in the mornings when I have to get up and shower and the heat isn't on yet. Naturally, I turn the heat on before I shower, but it takes longer than my hurried showers to warm the apartment.
I have no idea how the cross country team can bear to run in those tiny shorts and sports bras in the cold and wind. They must be made out of iron.
I must go to a review session now, but I want to leave you with one last thought: Valentine's Day can kiss my ass.
I can't pretend to understand my music class, and it's probably just as well, the teacher seems to have an inbred hatred towards Western culture. Why, I don't know, but the fact remains that he prefers John Cage and Javanese gamelan concerts to rock 'n roll. 'Tis sad, 'tis true...
The weather has been far too cold. It leaves me uninspired and makes me miserable, especially in the mornings when I have to get up and shower and the heat isn't on yet. Naturally, I turn the heat on before I shower, but it takes longer than my hurried showers to warm the apartment.
I have no idea how the cross country team can bear to run in those tiny shorts and sports bras in the cold and wind. They must be made out of iron.
I must go to a review session now, but I want to leave you with one last thought: Valentine's Day can kiss my ass.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
At last...
Today my mother told me that I have finally learnt how to write.
I wonder how it happened?
I wonder how it happened?
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Sunday, January 6, 2008
'O Dorm on the Range....
...where the dear and the madly-in-love play...
Back at university once more, and sadly realizing that every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday speed-walking will be required to get from Calculus to Physics. Other than that, all should go smoothly - in matters regarding timeliness and attendance anyway. As for the content of the classes, well, only time will tell.
I am very confused as to why the bookstore is closed today. Classes begin tomorrow and tomorrow is the first day we can buy books? Not a particularly intelligent proceeding...
Christmas, New Years', and my twentieth birthday were all gay, jolly, and made ever-more irritating by my computer's hard drive dying and leaving me computerless and suffering internet withdrawal. Hence why there are no posts from winter break.
It might just be time to begin cooking dinner, so I bid you all adieu.
Back at university once more, and sadly realizing that every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday speed-walking will be required to get from Calculus to Physics. Other than that, all should go smoothly - in matters regarding timeliness and attendance anyway. As for the content of the classes, well, only time will tell.
I am very confused as to why the bookstore is closed today. Classes begin tomorrow and tomorrow is the first day we can buy books? Not a particularly intelligent proceeding...
Christmas, New Years', and my twentieth birthday were all gay, jolly, and made ever-more irritating by my computer's hard drive dying and leaving me computerless and suffering internet withdrawal. Hence why there are no posts from winter break.
It might just be time to begin cooking dinner, so I bid you all adieu.
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