It's not so much if,
As it is when.
And its not so much when,
As it is July 17th.
As it is when.
And its not so much when,
As it is July 17th.
Showing posts with label life's loves. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life's loves. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Happy List as.of.today.february.26th.(or.27th.since.its.2:30.a.m.)
.bonfires.
.getting more and more excited for summer.
.sword fights with hot dog sticks.
.eating.
.eating.
.eating.
.feeling good about a taken test.
.hawaii plans.
.finding a balance between schoolworkfriendsandallthingshim.
.realizing you are on the same page but come from different directions.
.socks.
.being hilarious twentyfourseven.
.down comfortors.
.weekends.
.falling asleep.
.song and picture text messages.
.calling texts text messages.
.wonderful people.
.contentedness.
.getting more and more excited for summer.
.sword fights with hot dog sticks.
.eating.
.eating.
.eating.
.feeling good about a taken test.
.hawaii plans.
.finding a balance between schoolworkfriendsandallthingshim.
.realizing you are on the same page but come from different directions.
.socks.
.being hilarious twentyfourseven.
.down comfortors.
.weekends.
.falling asleep.
.song and picture text messages.
.calling texts text messages.
.wonderful people.
.contentedness.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
"this gaudy, mother-scented, mud-bedaubed language of ours"
is a snippet of the inside jacket of my current favorite book, Good Poems. I have always had a small soft spot in my soul for poetry, but lately it has erupted.
Poetry speaks to the romantic in each of us. It can take a subject as ordinary as socks and make it sound beautiful. Poetry allows us to describe the world as we see it, not the way that it really is.
Or maybe its the other way around.
The best song lyrics are poetry set to music, and it has been said that dance is poetry in motion.
I couldn't agree more.
One poem may have an infinite number of meanings. It may convey one message one day, and a completely different one the next.
Poems are coy, complex. They are not meant to be read in one sitting and never thought of again. They are meant to be inhaled. Read out loud. The words are meant to dance around on your tongue and slink their way up to your brain. They are meant to be peeled apart, examined, and lovingly put back together. One poem may never divulge all of its secrets to you. Certainly not in one sitting.
Poetry is art in written form. A good poem makes my whole body tingle, and I read it over and over and over again. Poetry is life, the way we see it, the way we want it to be. The way it is. Poetry is eternal.
The Yellow Slicker
Stuart Dischell
On this fourth day in a row of rain
There is a sameness to the streets broken only by the odd
Brightly painted house--the way those who pass by
In tan or black trench coats look back at the girl
Wearing a yellow slicker. The yellow slicker,
A gift from her aunt who knew London would be wet,
Having lived there herself just after The War,
The Europe she had known transformed to a state
Of the mind, no longer Central but Eastern, far away,
Bombed-out, depopulated, at least of her kind.
But for a girl of nineteen with American thoughts,
Traveler's cheques, a boy at home, a university
Address, the decline of the West compels less
Than each step she takes through the London rain.
Even these British so accustomed to their weather
Admire the girl in the yellow slicker, as if she
With her uncovered streaming blond hair might shine
As the only sun they will see all week. Now,
That's the kind of history she likes to hear.
See, this is my current favorite poem and I've already learned something new in typing it out.
It's delicious.
Poetry speaks to the romantic in each of us. It can take a subject as ordinary as socks and make it sound beautiful. Poetry allows us to describe the world as we see it, not the way that it really is.
Or maybe its the other way around.
The best song lyrics are poetry set to music, and it has been said that dance is poetry in motion.
I couldn't agree more.
One poem may have an infinite number of meanings. It may convey one message one day, and a completely different one the next.
Poems are coy, complex. They are not meant to be read in one sitting and never thought of again. They are meant to be inhaled. Read out loud. The words are meant to dance around on your tongue and slink their way up to your brain. They are meant to be peeled apart, examined, and lovingly put back together. One poem may never divulge all of its secrets to you. Certainly not in one sitting.
Poetry is art in written form. A good poem makes my whole body tingle, and I read it over and over and over again. Poetry is life, the way we see it, the way we want it to be. The way it is. Poetry is eternal.
The Yellow Slicker
Stuart Dischell
On this fourth day in a row of rain
There is a sameness to the streets broken only by the odd
Brightly painted house--the way those who pass by
In tan or black trench coats look back at the girl
Wearing a yellow slicker. The yellow slicker,
A gift from her aunt who knew London would be wet,
Having lived there herself just after The War,
The Europe she had known transformed to a state
Of the mind, no longer Central but Eastern, far away,
Bombed-out, depopulated, at least of her kind.
But for a girl of nineteen with American thoughts,
Traveler's cheques, a boy at home, a university
Address, the decline of the West compels less
Than each step she takes through the London rain.
Even these British so accustomed to their weather
Admire the girl in the yellow slicker, as if she
With her uncovered streaming blond hair might shine
As the only sun they will see all week. Now,
That's the kind of history she likes to hear.
See, this is my current favorite poem and I've already learned something new in typing it out.
It's delicious.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
1/19/10
Today happiness has been my new "go, go power rangers" ringtone. Everytime I hear the beepity beep of a T message coming my way I feel like I'm being called to go save the world.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Today
happiness was getting out of my dress and into some sweats and being lazy and comfy with a certain somebody.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Good Food and Fine Conversation
on this day, saturday, the sixteenth of january in the year two thousand and ten, these things are making me particularly happy:
-the promise of learning french in order to hold secret spy conversations
-stuffing myself till i couldn't breathe for pre-birthday fun at this place (its not just dinner...its entertainment!)
-this poem from this book (for anyone who loves poetry whether they know it or not):
Courage
Anne Sexton
It is in the small things we see it.
The child's first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.
Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
cover your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.
Later,
if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.
Later,
when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you'll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you'll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you'll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.
-
-the promise of learning french in order to hold secret spy conversations
-stuffing myself till i couldn't breathe for pre-birthday fun at this place (its not just dinner...its entertainment!)
-this poem from this book (for anyone who loves poetry whether they know it or not):
Courage
Anne Sexton
It is in the small things we see it.
The child's first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.
Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
cover your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.
Later,
if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.
Later,
when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you'll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you'll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you'll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.
-
Friday, June 5, 2009
Facebook Knows What's Up
Yes, its true, sometimes I take Facebook quizzes.
Only the good ones.
Sara completed the quiz "What U.S. state do you belong in?" with the result Hawaii.
Only the good ones.
Sara completed the quiz "What U.S. state do you belong in?" with the result Hawaii.
You truly see the world as your oyster. Life, to you, is one big playground. Money means very little to you.. Uncle Sam, who? And as far as you are concerned, beyond sand, surf, and sun, there's nothing more in the world you could ask for. You are most at ease and comfortable when your hair is wet, your toes are sandy, and your drink is cold. Friends and family mean a lot to you, but that doesn't mean you have to spend every waking hour together; sometimes you find comfort in solitude. And plus, absence makes the heart grow fonder. You will, however, find that one person that really completely you.. and once you do, you'll never want to live a day without them..
Me to a T.
I'll make it there someday. Don't be worried...
I'm not.
Me to a T.I'll make it there someday. Don't be worried...
I'm not.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Dear Running,
I was so happy to be seeing you again for the first time in so long...I could hardly breathe! You make me see stars, and you turn my world upside down - I could have sworn the flat surfaces were hills. I will never forget our hot, sweaty rendevous. I took a good long look at myself, sorted through my priorities, and I will always make time for you.
XOXO
Love, Me
XOXO
Love, Me
Sunday, May 17, 2009
So today I went to church
And understood absolutely nothing. And when I say nothing, I mean nothing.
It was absolutely wonderful.
The greatest thing in the world is the fact that I can go to church, not understand a single thing, and still comprehend so much.
I sang hymns (in German).
I took the sacrament (the bread was the kind you only get from a bakery, on special days in the U.S.).
I heard people's messages.
Different language, same feeling.
Fantastic!
Today we went for an uber long walk, and this is what we saw:
Fields of flowers
And future wishes.
Looking for mice,
A "privat" castle,
And the simple
beauties
of life.
It was absolutely wonderful.
The greatest thing in the world is the fact that I can go to church, not understand a single thing, and still comprehend so much.
I sang hymns (in German).
I took the sacrament (the bread was the kind you only get from a bakery, on special days in the U.S.).
I heard people's messages.
Different language, same feeling.
Fantastic!
Today we went for an uber long walk, and this is what we saw:
Fields of flowers
And future wishes.
Looking for mice,
A "privat" castle,
And the simple
beauties
of life.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
I LoVe airports!
No one else I've talked to has really agreed with me. Yes, I'm aware that they are impersonal, stressful, not to mention you feel totally violated ("no I will not take off my shoes, belt and jacket for you..."), yada yada yada. Seriously though. I love them.
They are just so interesting.
Everytime I have been to the airport it is to go somewhere cool...so maybe I'm biased. There are millions of people to watch. Families going on vacation, with little kids wide-eyed and excited (that's still me), and business people with their blackberrys, laptops, etc. looking like they couldn't care less that they were flying somewhere new or interesting. There are people from the military, people meeting their families, friends, loved ones. Tired, happy, frustrated, sick, relieved, stressed, grateful, frowning, smiling PEOPLE! And then there is always that poor guy on stand by that's been sleeping in the corner for the past 20 hours...
Airports are sort of magical to me, they always give me that same adventuresome feeling in my stomach that is just d.e.l.i.g.h.t.f.u.l.
I love traveling.
A glamorous traveler...I am not.
Everytime I have been to the airport it is to go somewhere cool...so maybe I'm biased. There are millions of people to watch. Families going on vacation, with little kids wide-eyed and excited (that's still me), and business people with their blackberrys, laptops, etc. looking like they couldn't care less that they were flying somewhere new or interesting. There are people from the military, people meeting their families, friends, loved ones. Tired, happy, frustrated, sick, relieved, stressed, grateful, frowning, smiling PEOPLE! And then there is always that poor guy on stand by that's been sleeping in the corner for the past 20 hours...
Airports are sort of magical to me, they always give me that same adventuresome feeling in my stomach that is just d.e.l.i.g.h.t.f.u.l.
I love traveling.
A glamorous traveler...I am not.
I got to watch the sun set
And the sun rise
All within the space of about seven hours...the one and probably only perk to time differences!
Also, in case you were wondering...
Its about 50 times greener in real life.
I'm finally here in my cute little room with a huge window feeling pretty out of it but here is one more picture.
My new friend Moose.
Yes, he takes up the whole bed.
Also, in case you were wondering...
Its about 50 times greener in real life.I'm finally here in my cute little room with a huge window feeling pretty out of it but here is one more picture.
My new friend Moose.
Yes, he takes up the whole bed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
