Marcela, the shepherdess...
"Moreover, you must remember that the beauty I possess was no choice of mine, for, be it what itmay, Heaven of its bounty gave it me without my asking or choosing it;and as the viper, though it kills with it, does not deserve to beblamed for the poison it carries, as it is a gift of nature, neitherdo I deserve reproach for being beautiful; for beauty in a modestwoman is like fire at a distance or a sharp sword; the one does notburn, the other does not cut, those who do not come too near."
Cervantes
trans. Ormsby
Monday, February 26, 2007
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Monday, February 05, 2007
Hildegard von Bingen
Hildegard described not only how the elements combined to form the cosmos, but also how they helped to shape and give life to our ...human bodies: (Schipperges is maddeningly awkward and I hate his unnecessary writing style, but commend him on his knowledge). "when God made humanity, the earth out of which it was form (limus) was glued together by water. God sent the breath of life - fire and air - into this form made from earth and water. Because the human form was made from Earth and Water, the earth became flesh through fire of this breath and through air. The water that held this together became blood. When God made Adam, His radience instantly embraced the entire earth out of which Adam was made. This earth showed itself outwardly in Adam's fashioning - in the shape of his limbs - but Adam was hollow within. (Curae et Causae 42,)
Hildegard went on to describe how the heart, liver, stomach, bowels, brain and other inner organs were made: the soul filled the human heart which pumped elements throughout the body. The liver heated the heart, the lungs covered it...
The heart was thought to be the seat of all knowledge, the liver the seat of all emotions. This we know to be false today...but in medieval times...well...hmmnnn...
I don't like this source one bit, honestly. Schipperges insisted that psychologically analyzing Hildegarde was a bad idea but it seems that he does so throughout the book himself, whether he realizes it or not. Perhaps he doesn't use psychological terminology, but he seems to make his own inferences, all of which are based in the context of psychology today. I wish I had more time to read in depth his book however, at least so that I could further disagree (or change my mind and agree) with him.
I guess I just don't like it when scholars use words like "puny" and "libido"
Hildegard went on to describe how the heart, liver, stomach, bowels, brain and other inner organs were made: the soul filled the human heart which pumped elements throughout the body. The liver heated the heart, the lungs covered it...
The heart was thought to be the seat of all knowledge, the liver the seat of all emotions. This we know to be false today...but in medieval times...well...hmmnnn...
I don't like this source one bit, honestly. Schipperges insisted that psychologically analyzing Hildegarde was a bad idea but it seems that he does so throughout the book himself, whether he realizes it or not. Perhaps he doesn't use psychological terminology, but he seems to make his own inferences, all of which are based in the context of psychology today. I wish I had more time to read in depth his book however, at least so that I could further disagree (or change my mind and agree) with him.
I guess I just don't like it when scholars use words like "puny" and "libido"
Sunday, February 04, 2007
I'm not capable of this anymore. I simply cannot continue to be the way I am. I feel at some times so happy, yet at others, so unhappy. It is tempting for me, stoic-faced to tell myself that "that's life" and that dealing with happiness and unhappiness is a part of it. But at the same time, I feel that there is the one who, having been gone, has returned and is, like me, mingling happiness and unahappiness, but perhaps doesn't think of things the best way. One must allow onesself to heal from psychological trauma, not constantly wallowing in one's suffering.
At the same time, there is the one that was here and is leaving. This is the one that all too often is the cause of my happiness and of my unhappiness. I fear being lied to again more than anything. I feel that it is wrong of me to give this person anymore leeway. It is wrong of me to be so understanding, so justifying. It is wrong of me to allow this person not to treat me the way, someone said, I deserve to be treated. I deserve to know where this person is, I deserve to know how they feel and what they are thinking. I deserve loving attention and I deserve a person who doesn't constantly cause me grief in one way or another.
At the same time though, I feel selfish in asking for this attention that according to a friend, I deserve. There are deeper things involved here than my happiness or unhappiness. There are bigger things in this world than the offense I feel when I am blown off or not cared about. There is more than the simple fact that to some people, I don't matter...and never will.
Every person thinks of themselves as number one.
I knew going into this thing that it would not be easy to be a part of. But then, one reaps what one sows. If I give this person enough attention...if I love this person enough...someday things will be alright between us. And the "alrightness" will mean more to us than it does to most people. How much sweeter will the contentment be that was fought for?
Much.
At the same time, there is the one that was here and is leaving. This is the one that all too often is the cause of my happiness and of my unhappiness. I fear being lied to again more than anything. I feel that it is wrong of me to give this person anymore leeway. It is wrong of me to be so understanding, so justifying. It is wrong of me to allow this person not to treat me the way, someone said, I deserve to be treated. I deserve to know where this person is, I deserve to know how they feel and what they are thinking. I deserve loving attention and I deserve a person who doesn't constantly cause me grief in one way or another.
At the same time though, I feel selfish in asking for this attention that according to a friend, I deserve. There are deeper things involved here than my happiness or unhappiness. There are bigger things in this world than the offense I feel when I am blown off or not cared about. There is more than the simple fact that to some people, I don't matter...and never will.
Every person thinks of themselves as number one.
I knew going into this thing that it would not be easy to be a part of. But then, one reaps what one sows. If I give this person enough attention...if I love this person enough...someday things will be alright between us. And the "alrightness" will mean more to us than it does to most people. How much sweeter will the contentment be that was fought for?
Much.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
The Fire-Eaters
Bloodletting, Earth, Fire, Water, Air....yes, a discourse on Alchemy is in accord.
Alchemy was the midieval version of physics, psychology and medicine in one. The main purpose of alchemy was to convert base metals into gold, but aside from that, the study and practice of Alchemy in the midieval world was also to cure disease and ultimately find immortality.
Death is one of those things that people feared, especially back then. The Black death raviged people. Whole populations were lost.
Medieval thinking was largly based on heiarchies. This general idea can probably be traced to the time of the Romans. I'm not certain to whom to give the due of coming up with the "four basic elements" theory, but Earth, Water, Fire and Air were symbolic of four characteristics that, in the medieval mind, made up everything: dry, cold, moist, hot.
Earth was furthest from heaven, therefore the lowest of the elements, then water, which goes up and comes down as rain, then air, which goes up and stays up, and then fire, which the Sun is made of.
They believed that each person contained four humors which were made up of two characteristics each that symbolized and element.
Blood is hot and moist, and therefore of the element of Air.
Yellow Bile/cholor is hot and dry, therefore made of the element Fire
Phlegm is cold and moist, therefore made of the element Water
Black Bile is cold and dry, therefore made of Earth.
While the modern mind can see a great deal of problems medically that can come of this type of thinking, one must also marvel at it's partial accuracy.
Blood carries oxygen to the cells. Oxygen is found in the air. The midieval mind knew this, even without knowing truly what blood is, nor cells, nor oxygen. In the medieval mind, they knew that one's humor needed to be in balance and that each humor was largely affected by diet. The stomach and liver, to the medieval mind were the entities which converted food into each of the humors.
The idea that one is psychologically affected by the food one eats has enormous truth to it. I know because I've tested this theory on myself. It's a tremendous excercize, if one enjoys eating quite alot, but the practice of fasting should have a moment here in the limelight. Fasting is a fantastic way to clear your mind, not because of hunger pains (if you fast, I encourage you to eat enough to avoid those, but eat things which have life... citrus, leafy greens and water-bearing vegetables and fruits: watermelon more than a banana, celery more than a potato) but because of the profound feeling of being clensed.
Here in America, we eat highly-processed food, that which is usually hot and dry. So we, then are the Fire-eaters. Who also has been at war? We eat fire and therefore have an overload of yellow bile. Are we like Shakespeare's Hotspur, then, ruled by our spleens?
Perhaps our international and internal problems would be solved if we embraced the Spinach leaf...quit babbling about fears of ecoli and ate something healthy for a change.
It was only a harmless musing.
Alchemy was the midieval version of physics, psychology and medicine in one. The main purpose of alchemy was to convert base metals into gold, but aside from that, the study and practice of Alchemy in the midieval world was also to cure disease and ultimately find immortality.
Death is one of those things that people feared, especially back then. The Black death raviged people. Whole populations were lost.
Medieval thinking was largly based on heiarchies. This general idea can probably be traced to the time of the Romans. I'm not certain to whom to give the due of coming up with the "four basic elements" theory, but Earth, Water, Fire and Air were symbolic of four characteristics that, in the medieval mind, made up everything: dry, cold, moist, hot.
Earth was furthest from heaven, therefore the lowest of the elements, then water, which goes up and comes down as rain, then air, which goes up and stays up, and then fire, which the Sun is made of.
They believed that each person contained four humors which were made up of two characteristics each that symbolized and element.
Blood is hot and moist, and therefore of the element of Air.
Yellow Bile/cholor is hot and dry, therefore made of the element Fire
Phlegm is cold and moist, therefore made of the element Water
Black Bile is cold and dry, therefore made of Earth.
While the modern mind can see a great deal of problems medically that can come of this type of thinking, one must also marvel at it's partial accuracy.
Blood carries oxygen to the cells. Oxygen is found in the air. The midieval mind knew this, even without knowing truly what blood is, nor cells, nor oxygen. In the medieval mind, they knew that one's humor needed to be in balance and that each humor was largely affected by diet. The stomach and liver, to the medieval mind were the entities which converted food into each of the humors.
The idea that one is psychologically affected by the food one eats has enormous truth to it. I know because I've tested this theory on myself. It's a tremendous excercize, if one enjoys eating quite alot, but the practice of fasting should have a moment here in the limelight. Fasting is a fantastic way to clear your mind, not because of hunger pains (if you fast, I encourage you to eat enough to avoid those, but eat things which have life... citrus, leafy greens and water-bearing vegetables and fruits: watermelon more than a banana, celery more than a potato) but because of the profound feeling of being clensed.
Here in America, we eat highly-processed food, that which is usually hot and dry. So we, then are the Fire-eaters. Who also has been at war? We eat fire and therefore have an overload of yellow bile. Are we like Shakespeare's Hotspur, then, ruled by our spleens?
Perhaps our international and internal problems would be solved if we embraced the Spinach leaf...quit babbling about fears of ecoli and ate something healthy for a change.
It was only a harmless musing.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Ah, what evil thoughts lie brooding within my brain! Have I yet died unto my failings? For what end has this person used my fears to make for his or herself a wayward mess to dote upon, perhaps even clean? Is it to my failings that I die? Or to someone elses, my grandfather's perhaps...
Something amiss, something assumed. I left the theater touched. Was it by the performance that I was touched, or something else? I closed my eyes and entered the theater of myself, my memory.
And now it is that I distrust even myself. I think evil thoughts, feel evil feelings, dream evil dreams, there is only one possible end in this. Death.
But what death? Death of a young or old woman? In so many ways I feel that I am an old woman. In so many ways I feel that I have been so lucky. If death come, be it swift and let me be well worthy of the death that will end the life I lived!
It isn't death now that troubles me, nor the thought of it. It is Time, Grandfather Time himself who has troubled me, and not that of Death and the Future, as doomed as it may be.
It is Memory, mistress to Time that now hangs heavy upon my brow. Looking, searching for fault, for pain, anger and hurt in Memory is much more difficult than allowing simple Time to take it's place, and as one gazes further inward, the more frustrating the memories become. Some may even be dreams.
Something amiss, something assumed. I left the theater touched. Was it by the performance that I was touched, or something else? I closed my eyes and entered the theater of myself, my memory.
And now it is that I distrust even myself. I think evil thoughts, feel evil feelings, dream evil dreams, there is only one possible end in this. Death.
But what death? Death of a young or old woman? In so many ways I feel that I am an old woman. In so many ways I feel that I have been so lucky. If death come, be it swift and let me be well worthy of the death that will end the life I lived!
It isn't death now that troubles me, nor the thought of it. It is Time, Grandfather Time himself who has troubled me, and not that of Death and the Future, as doomed as it may be.
It is Memory, mistress to Time that now hangs heavy upon my brow. Looking, searching for fault, for pain, anger and hurt in Memory is much more difficult than allowing simple Time to take it's place, and as one gazes further inward, the more frustrating the memories become. Some may even be dreams.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Benedick: ...it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my hard that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none.
Beatrice: A dear happiness to women! They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood I am of your humor for that. I had rather hear by dark bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.
Benedick: God keep Your Ladyshihp still in that mind! So some gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratched face.
Beatrice: Scratching could not make it worse, an' twere such a face as yours were.
Benedick: Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.
Beatrice: A bird fo my tongue is better than a beast of yours.
Benedick: I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so good a continuer. ...
Beatrice: A dear happiness to women! They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood I am of your humor for that. I had rather hear by dark bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.
Benedick: God keep Your Ladyshihp still in that mind! So some gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratched face.
Beatrice: Scratching could not make it worse, an' twere such a face as yours were.
Benedick: Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.
Beatrice: A bird fo my tongue is better than a beast of yours.
Benedick: I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so good a continuer. ...
Monday, January 22, 2007
Fair is foul, this is my testimony: If I release my inhibitions, I will lose. I will be driven by my release and then I will lose my focus on all the other things in my life. I have to focus on Shakespeare, Theory, History, the play, the poems, the essays, Russian, German...I don't know what to do. It's all too much, but I have such passion for all of it. The songs, the compositions...my requiem...his tango. Piano, voice, guitar...the things I want to do, I spend my time rather wisely. Nothing I do is something I don't enjoy. But my problem is that I don't have time for all of it all the time, and if I spend my time with him..."releasing" my inhibitions, I allow the focus of my life to shift, and I cannot allow that now. I cannot allow that to happen. I have built my life, my entire life, for as long as I remember, dreaming dreams and living life as fully as I can (except for those times when demons found me) ...
The truth is, I feel that we went too far. We didn't, we really did only play by the rules, but I feel also that how DARE he insinuate that we would get boring without that journey toward a release of inhibition. Inhibition...what is it? Is it my conscience? Perhaps.
The truth is, I love him more deeply than anything else in my life, but I strive to show him who I am, be everything that I am capable and more because that way, and only that way is the way I show myself love, and through that I show him my love too. I just worry that he doesn't see it. He is content to see love the conventional way. Touch.
This has created a problem because I don't see anything the conventional way. In fact, I have made a point in my life not to look at things the conventional way. I have to change my whole theory of thought around if I am to do justice to this man. He is so amazing though...truly, truly amazing. So honest, so loving...so pure. It's impossible to explain how he can be so exciting and so pure at the same time.
I love things that complete one another. Peppermint coffee is hot and cold at the same time...peanut brittle is salty and sweet at the same time, I laugh at cynical jokes, I cry at beauty...Fair is foul, foul is fair...God is the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega, the almighty-all powerful, yet He came and became powerless and died. I love music because it is both objective and subjective and will always be both. I love Don because I am a poet, he is a philosopher, I love him because he is a thinker, I am an artist; he is an amazing man in every way that I am not, and that brings me strength and life and hope. I can only marvel at that love.
Fair is foul, foul is fair.
The truth is, I feel that we went too far. We didn't, we really did only play by the rules, but I feel also that how DARE he insinuate that we would get boring without that journey toward a release of inhibition. Inhibition...what is it? Is it my conscience? Perhaps.
The truth is, I love him more deeply than anything else in my life, but I strive to show him who I am, be everything that I am capable and more because that way, and only that way is the way I show myself love, and through that I show him my love too. I just worry that he doesn't see it. He is content to see love the conventional way. Touch.
This has created a problem because I don't see anything the conventional way. In fact, I have made a point in my life not to look at things the conventional way. I have to change my whole theory of thought around if I am to do justice to this man. He is so amazing though...truly, truly amazing. So honest, so loving...so pure. It's impossible to explain how he can be so exciting and so pure at the same time.
I love things that complete one another. Peppermint coffee is hot and cold at the same time...peanut brittle is salty and sweet at the same time, I laugh at cynical jokes, I cry at beauty...Fair is foul, foul is fair...God is the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega, the almighty-all powerful, yet He came and became powerless and died. I love music because it is both objective and subjective and will always be both. I love Don because I am a poet, he is a philosopher, I love him because he is a thinker, I am an artist; he is an amazing man in every way that I am not, and that brings me strength and life and hope. I can only marvel at that love.
Fair is foul, foul is fair.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Thunder Shakes the World and its place is faced with many jabberings.
The thing that gets me is all the people of the world who are anti-catholic. For all of their accusations, for all of the fingers that point at us saying, look at how vile and sinful the Catholic Church is...for all the times I've been the butt of a joke, the object of scrutiny, and judged for my faith, I have yet to go to church and hear a homily of hatred. I have yet to hear a sermon putting someone down. I have yet to hear a priest say that any group of people is damned.
It hurts me. It has always hurt me, that anyone would judge an entire group of people based on the examples of a few.
I suppose I am simply paying for the sins of my Catholic ancestors. They were wrong. Faced with crucades and inquisitions, myriads of people killed for no reason other than the hatred that was the catholic church. That was hundreds of years ago. Since then, to be catholic is to live in humility.
So damn me, world. Yes, world, I am addressing you. Judge me. Damn me. I've been the object of scrutiny all my life for my faith. I dare you.
I have done no one wrong. I have lived my life to honor Jesus Christ, to spread His love. I have never sought to be anything other than an instrument of His peace. I have tried to bring love where there is hatred, I have tried to bring forgiveness where there is hurt, I have tried to bring light where there is darkness, faith where there is doubt. Comfort where there are tears...
But they judge me anyway.
That is life. Just because I face hatred in this world does not mean I will give up my faith or cease to live my life as I have. I am His and His alone.
Fair is foul. Foul is fair.
The thing that gets me is all the people of the world who are anti-catholic. For all of their accusations, for all of the fingers that point at us saying, look at how vile and sinful the Catholic Church is...for all the times I've been the butt of a joke, the object of scrutiny, and judged for my faith, I have yet to go to church and hear a homily of hatred. I have yet to hear a sermon putting someone down. I have yet to hear a priest say that any group of people is damned.
It hurts me. It has always hurt me, that anyone would judge an entire group of people based on the examples of a few.
I suppose I am simply paying for the sins of my Catholic ancestors. They were wrong. Faced with crucades and inquisitions, myriads of people killed for no reason other than the hatred that was the catholic church. That was hundreds of years ago. Since then, to be catholic is to live in humility.
So damn me, world. Yes, world, I am addressing you. Judge me. Damn me. I've been the object of scrutiny all my life for my faith. I dare you.
I have done no one wrong. I have lived my life to honor Jesus Christ, to spread His love. I have never sought to be anything other than an instrument of His peace. I have tried to bring love where there is hatred, I have tried to bring forgiveness where there is hurt, I have tried to bring light where there is darkness, faith where there is doubt. Comfort where there are tears...
But they judge me anyway.
That is life. Just because I face hatred in this world does not mean I will give up my faith or cease to live my life as I have. I am His and His alone.
Fair is foul. Foul is fair.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Madness
I had a strange dream last night. It involved a peanut festival. There was this farmish place and five or six peanut-celebrating events. Steve, my brother and I were playing dice to win some peanuts somehow, and he kept throwing in more dice than were needed. He wasn't cheating, he was teasing me. I was furious and stormed off. Then there was this Cathedral, because for some reason the choirs from Concordia were there. We (Chapel Choir) were all in our robes, and Tim the Amazing was there playing an electric piano and screwing up the acoustics. Rene Clausen was furious but nobody knew it was Tim because he was under blankets and a big beach umbrella in the balcony. And in the building below there was a hallway leading away from the church and there was a room, rather a wall that read: "The Recovery from Oostburg" and something to do with lemons. When I opened the door to the room it had a bingo bar in it, and the wall collapsed and made alot of noise so I ran down the hallway and woke up.
It was so much more vivid when I was sleeping.
It was so much more vivid when I was sleeping.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Letter
Wouldn't you like to do Hamlet? I think he could be organised delightfully into three pictures: 1) Elsinore and Hamlet before the appearance of his father's ghost; (2) Polonius (scherzando) and Ophelia (adagio) (3) Hamlet after the appearance of the ghost. His death and Fortinbras...After Hamlet I considered Francesca, and she really is beginning to please me!...Then, if Iago worries you, why not do the tale of Othello by himself? Indeed, he does merit a symphonic tableau! As you see, Hamlet is the only new subject I've devised...but if only you knew how much I wish you'd write music on my subject....
Modest to Petr Tchaikovsky
"The Lives of the Great Composers"
Schonberg
Modest to Petr Tchaikovsky
"The Lives of the Great Composers"
Schonberg
Blue
If I am blue, I'm not certain that I want to change to another color. It would explain why certain things happen; it would explain my cycles of various shades of blue.
So I could go to an artist and ask him or her what color I am. And he or she may say that I am red, blue, or yellow. Because they're ARTISTS! They get PAID to tell people what color they are. They have no interests except to make money and to paint you. And even if they're RIGHT; even if they ARE right and I am in fact, a color I oughtn't be...even then...do I really want to change? I felt such joy when a certain magic penguin asked me a certain question concerning the rest of my life. I remember the profound joy I felt at that moment. But I don't feel that way all of the time. In fact, sometimes I feel more depressed than ever about my answer to him. If I were a shade of blue, it would explain this change of color. Varying from light to dark blue would be natural.
What if I'm being rational though? Given my age, the circumstances of the question, the circumstances of the answer...given the loneliness we'd both faced this semester, given the intensities and pastinesses of our lives...I don't see how I am not being rational in wishing to rethink this. It is most dramatic to say that I am a color I oughtn't be. Perhaps he's a color he oughtn't be. In fact, that thought is far more plausable than my color being ary.
As far as desires go, I feel that he is quite too hung up on them. I feel that this entire pallate can easily go badly because, after all, Boo Radley is involved in this, isn't he?
And then I remember my tearful frenzy of colors and personalities that never ceases to amaze even myself. I've got much to do, and extremely little time. But if such minds could save from death Astronauts of Apollo 13, certainly my far inferior one can accomplish a far inferior task such as studying for this silly final.
So I could go to an artist and ask him or her what color I am. And he or she may say that I am red, blue, or yellow. Because they're ARTISTS! They get PAID to tell people what color they are. They have no interests except to make money and to paint you. And even if they're RIGHT; even if they ARE right and I am in fact, a color I oughtn't be...even then...do I really want to change? I felt such joy when a certain magic penguin asked me a certain question concerning the rest of my life. I remember the profound joy I felt at that moment. But I don't feel that way all of the time. In fact, sometimes I feel more depressed than ever about my answer to him. If I were a shade of blue, it would explain this change of color. Varying from light to dark blue would be natural.
What if I'm being rational though? Given my age, the circumstances of the question, the circumstances of the answer...given the loneliness we'd both faced this semester, given the intensities and pastinesses of our lives...I don't see how I am not being rational in wishing to rethink this. It is most dramatic to say that I am a color I oughtn't be. Perhaps he's a color he oughtn't be. In fact, that thought is far more plausable than my color being ary.
As far as desires go, I feel that he is quite too hung up on them. I feel that this entire pallate can easily go badly because, after all, Boo Radley is involved in this, isn't he?
And then I remember my tearful frenzy of colors and personalities that never ceases to amaze even myself. I've got much to do, and extremely little time. But if such minds could save from death Astronauts of Apollo 13, certainly my far inferior one can accomplish a far inferior task such as studying for this silly final.
I don't want to switch to Google!
There are certain people on this earth that I cannot stand. I grant myself that I am not a perfect person. I also grant myself that I don't always make the correct choice or the right decisions. But I also don't know what I can do about certain people who look at me with their condescending eyes, knowing that they have succeeded and I have failed, and smirk because they are pleased that it is so. The thing that gets me the most angry about it is that they have the right to do so. They are better at this than I am. They also are loved by most other people and I gradually have become more and more bitter, even to the point at which I seek simple things, worldly, fleshly things to sedate my anger.
There are certain people on this earth that I cannot stand. I grant myself that I am not a perfect person. I also grant myself that I don't always make the correct choice or the right decisions. But I also don't know what I can do about certain people who look at me with their condescending eyes, knowing that they have succeeded and I have failed, and smirk because they are pleased that it is so. The thing that gets me the most angry about it is that they have the right to do so. They are better at this than I am. They also are loved by most other people and I gradually have become more and more bitter, even to the point at which I seek simple things, worldly, fleshly things to sedate my anger.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Monday, November 27, 2006
Magic Penguins
So, I've decided that I should create an insanity club. Perhaps akin to the Benevolent Mad People of our most gracious Captain. Of course, now things are much different. For one, stress is a part of life, like breathing. Or peanut butter. Stress is like peanut butter...
My roommates do not understand me. Simply put, they don't. They try. They do really try. But they don't understand my need to be crazy and "random" as they put it. There's nothing wrong with the way I am. I don't hurt anyone or wish them harm. I'm just different, I try to be, and it's not a bad thing. I just annoy them, I guess. So I'm taking this next couple of minutes to balistically type in the library, thus making as much noise as one can in an acceptable fashion.
So, on the subject of magic penguins, one has entered my life and reaped some havok, in fact. This particular magic penguin came into the room and stole all of the vending machines. Yes, and because of the lack of vending machines, I cried. Yea! I wept with tears of joy for my over-caffeinated existance was finally coming to an end as the great mountain dew spread upon my brow and itched.
Until of course, you realize exactly what I'm saying. Realize. Real eyes. Realize. Real lies. Real eyes realize real lies. Alright.
The benevolent madness hath permeated my existance for some time now. Per meat. Ed.
He came into my life, I welcomed him right in, not knowing what he'd be to me or the things he'd bring with him. I think that this problem is easily remedied.
No.
Fair is foul, foul is fair. I feel that because of my underlying foulness somehow I must have done something right along the way. After all, there is now a magic penguin in my life. I wonder about him though. He seems to be an aloof magic penguin these days.
How is it that I care so much about this person? This person I don't know. This person who is so different from me? It isn't sane. But what about my life is sane? What about my life has ever been sane? Partially I think he realizes how insane this is. But partially I think that if I disappeared from the face of the earth no one, no, not even he would notice. And that is a dangerous thought for me to be thinking this year, for, with all the ice in the sky, with all the glass on the trees, the world is full of edges. And, edges become chasms and chasms are things that will allow me to fall through. Sinisterly, I must go out into the darkness of midday and sing merry songs of hope, even though my present demeanor is strung so thin. Almost as thin as the strings of lights on the trees.
Fair is foul
foul is fair.
Hover through fog and filthy air.
My roommates do not understand me. Simply put, they don't. They try. They do really try. But they don't understand my need to be crazy and "random" as they put it. There's nothing wrong with the way I am. I don't hurt anyone or wish them harm. I'm just different, I try to be, and it's not a bad thing. I just annoy them, I guess. So I'm taking this next couple of minutes to balistically type in the library, thus making as much noise as one can in an acceptable fashion.
So, on the subject of magic penguins, one has entered my life and reaped some havok, in fact. This particular magic penguin came into the room and stole all of the vending machines. Yes, and because of the lack of vending machines, I cried. Yea! I wept with tears of joy for my over-caffeinated existance was finally coming to an end as the great mountain dew spread upon my brow and itched.
Until of course, you realize exactly what I'm saying. Realize. Real eyes. Realize. Real lies. Real eyes realize real lies. Alright.
The benevolent madness hath permeated my existance for some time now. Per meat. Ed.
He came into my life, I welcomed him right in, not knowing what he'd be to me or the things he'd bring with him. I think that this problem is easily remedied.
No.
Fair is foul, foul is fair. I feel that because of my underlying foulness somehow I must have done something right along the way. After all, there is now a magic penguin in my life. I wonder about him though. He seems to be an aloof magic penguin these days.
How is it that I care so much about this person? This person I don't know. This person who is so different from me? It isn't sane. But what about my life is sane? What about my life has ever been sane? Partially I think he realizes how insane this is. But partially I think that if I disappeared from the face of the earth no one, no, not even he would notice. And that is a dangerous thought for me to be thinking this year, for, with all the ice in the sky, with all the glass on the trees, the world is full of edges. And, edges become chasms and chasms are things that will allow me to fall through. Sinisterly, I must go out into the darkness of midday and sing merry songs of hope, even though my present demeanor is strung so thin. Almost as thin as the strings of lights on the trees.
Fair is foul
foul is fair.
Hover through fog and filthy air.
Friday, November 24, 2006
I'm in a smoke filled room. My immune system is down. I need to focus on homework. Everthing is going so slowly. I feel awful. I am set up to go back to school early. I'm being very selfish. I'm missing out on Steve's birthday and missing all my friends. Elizabeth.
But this is of my own making. Damn. Why is it that I can never do anything right?!
But this is of my own making. Damn. Why is it that I can never do anything right?!
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Many a day passes with Fair and Foul
I hate two things in the adult life I am entering. Money is one. Politics is the other. I hate politics not because I'm ignorant of them, snubbing them like so many people do. So many people are so ignorant of the current state of our country that it's rediculous. People don't use their right to vote, and it sickens me. How busy can you be America? The only power that we have is the right to vote. Millions of people have died fighting to preserve it in wars. The only foreward steps we have are the steps we take when we vote.
But then I think: if I could have voted in the last presidential election, who would I have voted for? I value almost everything the Democrats value. I value peace and government funding for higher education and better health care for the lower class. I value sticking up for the little guy in business, I value equality and justice. I value these things more than lowering taxes, fighting wars for reasons that change: oil, to stabalize the economy, to find weapons of mass distruction or getting a tyrant out of office. I think that to protect this country, we build a better funded CIA, and fund the institutions at which scientists may develop weapons of mass defense.
But the Democratic party has twisted their values to become something altogether different than what people are willing to vote for. Kerry in the last election was an abomination. Who wants to support public education? The democrats. Largely, the democrats want to increase funding so that everyone gets a decent education K-12. Kerry went to private schools. He studied abroad...there's nothing wrong with that, but it's the you-practice-what-you-preach thing. How can he improve public education when he never experienced it? HE volunteered for Nam? The single most outspoken democrat I know, a former teacher, was drafted and went to Nam too. He would make a great president, but he opposed Nam then, he generally opposes war altogether...and he would NEVER have volunteered for Nam. The only reason Kerry said that was so that he could appeal to the Right. But he doesn't appeal to anyone. I couldn't have brought myself to vote for him. This next election scares me too. I want someone who will try to find an end to Iraq. We need to fight terrorism with understanding and unite this nation before we try to fight the wars of other nations. I won't vote to the right, I refuse to vote left if they are as weak as they have shown themselves to be. That's got to be why many people don't go to the polls. The fate of all mankind, I see, is in the hands of fools.
Fair is foul
But then I think: if I could have voted in the last presidential election, who would I have voted for? I value almost everything the Democrats value. I value peace and government funding for higher education and better health care for the lower class. I value sticking up for the little guy in business, I value equality and justice. I value these things more than lowering taxes, fighting wars for reasons that change: oil, to stabalize the economy, to find weapons of mass distruction or getting a tyrant out of office. I think that to protect this country, we build a better funded CIA, and fund the institutions at which scientists may develop weapons of mass defense.
But the Democratic party has twisted their values to become something altogether different than what people are willing to vote for. Kerry in the last election was an abomination. Who wants to support public education? The democrats. Largely, the democrats want to increase funding so that everyone gets a decent education K-12. Kerry went to private schools. He studied abroad...there's nothing wrong with that, but it's the you-practice-what-you-preach thing. How can he improve public education when he never experienced it? HE volunteered for Nam? The single most outspoken democrat I know, a former teacher, was drafted and went to Nam too. He would make a great president, but he opposed Nam then, he generally opposes war altogether...and he would NEVER have volunteered for Nam. The only reason Kerry said that was so that he could appeal to the Right. But he doesn't appeal to anyone. I couldn't have brought myself to vote for him. This next election scares me too. I want someone who will try to find an end to Iraq. We need to fight terrorism with understanding and unite this nation before we try to fight the wars of other nations. I won't vote to the right, I refuse to vote left if they are as weak as they have shown themselves to be. That's got to be why many people don't go to the polls. The fate of all mankind, I see, is in the hands of fools.
Fair is foul
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