Mood:
blueTopic: Day to Day
some stark realizations. And a practical application of poetry.
1. shouldn't do hang gliding till I'm on corporate life and accident insurance. Great, yet another part of my life to be put on hold. But the first or second weekend I'm on corporate insurance, that's where i'll be.
2. I love lists
3. this week was lame. First of all, I'm sick of people making plans and not keeping their end of the bargain. I'm sick of organizing things. People if you want me to plan stuff, don't make it so hard for me. If I'm on the phone making sure you freaking get there and all that, don't be late, get directions, follow directions, and take responsibility. also. I'm sick of driving people around. I'm sure I'll be willing to be lackey again. I sometimes love it. But I'm just under a lot of other stress right now and I am sick of being in charge. I feel like this, when I should be only or mostly having fun (again, I quote this and everyone always asks who's poem is it, well here it is and now you know.):
Robert Frost - Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
4. I don't have time to listen to everyone's problems every day. I mean, I do, but I don't have the stamina. I've got lots of shit to worry about right now. Ok I am there to hear it out and stuff, but going over and over and over the same damn thing and asking me what the person should do, when they didn't follow my initial advise? Or asking me to fortell the future - I'm not gonna tell people what they wanna hear. The answer is and will be "I don't know."
5. what are you people going to do when I go back to work and I don't have time for anything? Are you going to step up and take some responsibility? Group stuff is hard to plan and I want others to do more.
6. Ok, I'm in a bitchy mood but that's what a blog is for - inane ramblings and rants. This is just a pimple in my personality. I'm fine, really.
7. Something struck a cord with me today. Apparently some of my friends think that I'm cold and can't feel, because I'm able to walk away from stuff like BF and not agonize about it and not talk about it and not bum about it. Well newsflash: I do hurt and I am bummed about it and you know what, crying about it or bitching about it is not going to help. Reality check, it's over. I've moved on. Nothing I can do about that situation and yes it hurts, but I accept that pain and I hope to god that some day I can meet someone that I can love like that again. What does that mean? It means I'll go on a date or two with different people, and check it out, and if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. I'm not going to force something to work. I'm not going to focus myself on a casual relationship and try to make it work. I'm going to have fun. I'm not going to take it too seriously. I'm not going to agonize or obsess about every person I meet. I'm not going to let relationships with strangers run my life. I have way too much fun with my friends and family and by myself to let that happen. If that's cold, then fine. I'm cold. But I've been in enough lousy relationships to learn my lessons and not repeat history. I don't think there is anything wrong with looking at a person as a sum of their parts. If they have major flaws or things I can not live with, why should I date them, if I don't want to.
Each time you fall in love and it doesn't work out, you get scarred. With time, in most cases, a person will forget what that love felt like and will be able to move on. There will always be a space or a hole where that scar is, and so you live, you love, you hurt. You move on. And yes, it gets easier and easier. Sorry if that's cold but like with everything, practice makes perfect. This is overdramatised, but it works, as with anything in life that's hard to bear:
-William Ernest Henley-
Out of the night that covers me,
Black is the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank what ever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the harrow of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
8. besides, I'm meeting some fun and attractive guys and maybe if I get to know them better, they'll be just as great as BF, minus the BS.
It's all about attitude.
And this is how I feel about work, about love, about life. Best spoken by Longfellow.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - A Psalm of Life
WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST.
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;--
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
and of course...
Dylan Thomas - Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
9. and lastly, it's the person's own responsibility to find humor in every situation, and let the irony make you laugh the pain away. There is always hope for a brigher future, no matter how dark the shadow of the past. Again, Longfellow:
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - The Day is Done
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
10. So now that I got this out of my system, I have to say I do live by this. Many of you my friends have asked me about this poem as I quote it a lot. So here it is.
Emily Dickinson - If I can stop one Heart from breaking
If I can stop one Heart from breaking
I shall not live in vain
If I can ease one Life the Aching
Or cool one Pain
Or help one fainting Robin
Unto his Nest again
I shall not live in Vain.
So with that, I believe there is no application for a person then to be a servant of those who need them. And therefore, I'll continue on to listen to everyone's problems, be an ear and perhaps offer humble advise only if it is wanted and warrantied, and plan fun outings and be involved. I just feel like I need a break. But I should enjoy it while I have the time to - soon work will start again and I will remember this stress as a time of luxury.
11. and now because halloween is near:
Edgar Allan Poe - The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" -
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never - nevermore'."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore:
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting -
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
12. and some cool things about this week:
oh man my halloween costume is still not her. What up with the USPS? Halls costume worked out wonders I hir, can't wait to see.
13. La went to badminton - did avesome for his first time.
14. I told C M will call. and he did. I'm always right.
15. Man Halls and D, that was off da hook. Hope to see a sequel to that.
16. what's up with MD? I get some texts mid week and that's it? Guess what mister, if you don't take care of your business, trust me I got someones who will.
17. Jasmine's was off da hook, and is entitled to a separate post with photos.
18. Worried about A.
19. Ok, I can understand the first time, the hickey thing. But again? After specifically being told to not do that? and one on the face? I'm done over there.
20. it's 4am, do you know where my brain is?
21. soundbar sucks on friday night, unless you happen to like trance. trance? trance??? what's up with those people, they were like a rave scene from the matrix. Newsflash people, trance is not exactly something anyone should attempt to dance to. Turn up some hip hop. However, Soundbar was off da hook Thursday.
22. Today we are praying before bed. This is not because I believe, but it's because JK believes. Good luck on the CPA test, I actually will pray. Last thing I prayed for - C's friend's son to recover from the coma, and my prayer was answered.
Posted by anteojos
at 4:18 AM CDT
caffeinated
a-ok
quizzical
