Thursday, December 29, 2005
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Jabberwocky
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Day 3
The fever's all gone, finally. I'm more listless than ennervated, and tomorrow I get to see my boyfriend again (:
On a completely unrelated note:
Monday, December 26, 2005
Ennervated
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Sickness
Friday, December 23, 2005
And So.
Memories or Still Truths?
Why do I even bother sometimes? It’s like, when I speak, I don’t even exist. I could just say anything, and people would look right past me with that same blank stare, expressionless, and continue whatever they were doing. I’m ridiculously gratified when someone looks at me, listens, answers, laughs at a joke—an actual conversation, with someone else! In the hallways, too, I am not acknowledged, I am invisible, just something to move around (or sometimes not even that). Are they all so self-absorbed? It makes me want to curse, scream “Fuck!” but I’m a nice girl and I don’t use words like that, of course. Wouldn’t it be shocking? Or would no one hear me? Would they just carry on, as usual, ignoring the girl standing in the middle of the hallway, screaming, “I’m so fucking alone!” The Christian kids from the church I used to attend, they’re so nice, they don’t even recognize me at school, not like they ever did. I simply don’t exist; I’m faceless, voiceless, lost. Oh, and the reason I left that church? I didn’t belong. I don’t belong in this school; I don’t belong anywhere, neither earth nor heaven nor hell. Maybe I belong among the stars, a comet, always moving until someday I crash into a planet, becoming stardust and rock, forgotten, crash into oblivion.
If anyone wanted to know how I felt through my high school years...
Hallway
The people pass by me, in clusters or alone, talking or silent. A boy stumbles, but no one notices; they’re too busy trying to push through the moving mass of people. The sea of faces hides all single identity. I wonder if anyone’s as lonely as me; surrounded by people, but unseen. I move through them, walking quickly, blank faced, and catch only disjointed bits of conversations: “She works there? Why don’t you?” “…yeah, he said…” My binder is in my arms; Atlas Shrugged is digging uncomfortably into my chest—if I don’t hold my books tightly, they will slide off. The level of noise rises as more people flood the hallways, becoming indistinct, and I tune it out and move to my next class.
Here
In winter's arms
Wishing they were yours..."
Perhaps it is irrational of me to miss people, and perhaps it is not. Nevertheless, I do...
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Newsy Things
I went bowling with my boyfriend and some of his friends last night. I also met his parents and saw some baby pictures. At least he hasn't seen any embarassing pictures of me yet...
My dad's visit is going well, the cats are mostly behaving, and I have been doing a lot of reading (although I had to put the 11th WoT book on hold because someone has it checked out until Jan. 6th or so). I feel kind of mean putting Knife of Dreams on hold because that means they won't be able to renew it if they don't finish it. But on the other hand, that's their own fault ;)
Hmm. Ok, maybe I didn't have that much news after all. I have to get around to calling some friends now that I'm back in the area and so on, but for now I must run a book up to the library that I suggested to the librarian. She hasn't read it, so I'm lending my copy to her.
Final grades are posted on Friday!!!
A Poem I Found
by Sylvia Plath
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
Sunday, December 18, 2005
A Few Things
Bruise update: reddish in the center of purple ringed by more of a greenish yellow.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Home
My parents have been separated for 4 or 5 years now. I won't officially be a child of a broken home until January, probably. Things were bad for a while, and then my mom was just to busy to start the divorce process. Now she has. I'm not bitter really. They get along fine, for the most part.
In other news I had brief conversations with some people I haven't talked with (or seen) in a while. Now I just have to work on forgiving Steve. I'm not sure if he knows I've been mad at him or not.
Bruise status: still a lump, very purple/blue surrounded by yellow. Thanks a lot, Seth... but I can't complain-- my first fencing injury! Never mind that it was completely off-target...
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Western Wind
Western Wind
Anonymous
Western Wind, when will thou blow,
The small rain down can rain?
Christ, if my love were in my arms
And I in bed again!
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Monday, December 12, 2005
Porcupines
Books
--Chris
That says it all. Today at lunch we had an interesting (and brief) conversation about "tight bindings." I didn't start it either, I swear!
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Chorale Concert
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Weekend
Today I have a three hour Chorale rehearsal, and then (shameless plug) our concert (with the U Choir as well) starts at 2pm on Sunday afternoon!
It's going to be a busy weekend. Somehow I don't think I'll have much time to study.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Goodbye...
To bid you farewell?"
I saw a friend at breakfast today who I haven't seen in a long time. He is going to be leaving at the end of this semester, and I was so afraid that I would never get to see him again... Fate can be kind after all. I got to give him the snowflake I'd made for him after all, and he said, "Thank you for everything" and gave me a hug and I wished him luck.
Goodbyes suck, but at least I got to say one.
Snow!
(:
We get a delayed opening, at least... too bad it doesn't affect me because I start classes at 11!
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Letting Go
Finals week is next week. Maybe that will work just as well.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Things
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Sleeping Beauty
... and they looked down on her as she lay on the floor, and sighed and smiled. 'A happy ending,' they murmured, dispersing--- leaving behind her broken body, lifeless, lying still on the floor. A happy ending.
The Snapper
Lyrics
Monday, December 05, 2005
Things That Make Me Happy
- Spending time with Jason
- Thinking about Jason
- My friends and family (many)
- My cats (Jasmine, Pooka, Bink, and Streak)
- Snow outside
- Hot tea
- Metal
- Music in general
- Books
- Writing
- Pretty drawings
- Comics
- Sunrises and sunsets
- Clouds
- The moon
- Squirrels
- Leaves
- Flowers
- Hawks
- Wind
- My breath in the cold air
- The smell of wet pavement/cement when it just starts to rain
That's all I can think of for now. Mostly it's the little things that make me happy... it's just that they are the hardest to hold onto.
The Universe
'Sir, I exist!'
'However,' replied the universe,
'The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.'"
--From 'War is Kind' by Stephen Crane
Monday
Here's another question I can't answer: is a friend of mine actually just really busy or is he also purposefully avoiding me? I mean, I'm sorry, I didn't realize having a boyfriend meant that I suddenly couldn't hang out with anyone else... (that is sarcasm for those of you who can't tell.)
"What about you over there?
Don't you think I care?
Well I know you know I know you know I know..."
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Evening Ramblings
Speaking of relationships, I have been thinking about something else as well. A while back, someone else said, although not directly, that he was interested in me. All I could say was "I don't know..." I realized later that what I meant was "My mind is on someone else... it never has been on you... and although I hold no hope for my happiness with him I cannot settle, I cannot lie." It's been about a month now since things worked out the way I wanted them too, and he has found someone else. The strange thing is, he knew her before he knew me. Isn't loneliness a strange thing? I don't think that he ever liked me the same way he likes her. I guess this is sort of a response to what I read in his xanga a few days ago, going back into the archives. If one small thing had gone differently, where would I be today? It can drive me crazy to think "what if..." and yet, I do anyway.
I don't know why I was mulling over that. Some things just have to get worked out, one way or another, you know? Not that I have really worked anything out.
Only: I am happy. I want to be happy. I am not alone... and that is powerful.
Cold
A picture of a not-too-happy Streak out in the snow two years ago.
Summer is Gone
9th century, translated from the Irish.
I have but one story—
The stags are moaning,
The sky is snowing,
Summer is gone.
Quickly the low sun
Goes drifting down
Behind the rollers,
Lifting and long.
The wild geese cry
Down the storm;
The ferns have fallen,
Russet and torn.
The wings of the birds
Are clotted with ice.
I have but one story—
Summer is gone.
Winter Has Come
9th century, translated from the Irish.
Winter has come with scarcity,
Lake
Frosts crumble the leaves,
The merry wave mutters.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Fortune (a micro-fiction)
The gypsy looked up at Rob.
“Ahhh…” she said. “You are going to die today. You will be hit by a car. I’m sorry.”
Rob stood up. “I want a refund!” he shouted. The woman shook her head.
“I may be wrong.”
Rob kept close to the side of the building as he walked home. No cars seemed ready to veer towards him, so he began to relax.
As he reached the door of his apartment, he turned to check the street for homicidal cars, and the window-box eight stories above him broke, dropping three heavy flowerpots on his head.
When help arrived, he was pronounced dead on the scene.
The next day the gypsy read about the freak accident in the newspaper and shrugged.
“No one said fortune-telling is an exact science.”
The Inexorable Villanelle
As fate wills, your time has come,
Along the ever-spinning wheel
The thread of life is spun.
And to the earth down falls the sun—
No light remains that darkness cannot steal.
As fate wills, your time has come.
Everything in life that you’ve won
Is for nothing—to death you must kneel
The thread of life is spun.
Cold air up your spine seems to run
A small chill, a shiver you feel
As fate wills, your time has come.
Your days on Earth are done
Time demands you break death’s seal
The thread of life is spun.
Life and death are one--
You pass through at the
As fate wills, your time has come;
The thread of life is spun.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Shadows
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.
I can see only what my mirror shows me:
Brave knights riding out on a quest,
Joyful pennants unfurled in the spring wind;
Funeral processions in mournful dusk—
Then they quickly disappear
Into the mirror’s silver depths.
I can hear only what the warm wind carries:
Songs of celebration and sorrow
In the same warm sunlight that glints off my mirror;
Lover’s whispers on the night breeze—
Soon enough they fade as I sit
Captured in my web.
The shadows rise before my eyes,
Made of nothing but fleeting memories of
All I have seen and heard,
And I want that which I can never have:
Anything but shadows.