4:1 this blog...

This blog. I swear it'll be the end of me. 

Probably not, but it still gets to me. 

Though I have a lot on my to do list that I "sweep under the rug," I can't get away with not writing blog entries. Therefore, the blog sits at the bottom of my priority list of things-I-can't-get-away-without-doing. 

I go through the week, getting by with what I need to do. Oh wait, I have to write a blog entry. 

Just finished my homework! Nope, gotta write a blog entry. 

Time for sleep! Guess what? Blog time! 

This blog is a burden to my sanity. Perhaps if I thoroughly enjoyed writing or had prolific ideas, blogging wouldn't be such a pain. However, I am who I am (not an avid author), and this blog continues to be a thorn in my side. 

Maybe it's the pressure of publishing my writing for the world to see. The perfectionist within me doesn't like cranking out bits and pieces of thoughts jumbled together. I like one piece of work that I have refined into what I consider close to perfection. 

My classmates always seem to be more ontop of things and are eloquent writers, where I am the one to write a jumbled mess that may or may not make sense. 

In a perfect world, I would have energy and focus to complete everything I need to do in a timely manner and nothing would get swept under the rug. However, in the "real world," life is full of distractions, and time really does fly. My priorities have changed from homework to a social life and wanting to do things my own way. A part of me desires to be that book-loving nine year-old again, but I know that I have grown up and feel like I don't have time to sit around and not be "productive." I get caught up with the fast pace of the world around me, and forget to take time for the little things. 

Instead of looking at the big picture all the time, I should also take a step back and focus on what I can do today that I will thank myself for later. 

Putting the blog at a higher priority may ease my stress about it, as once I make the time to write, it isn't such a daunting task. However, it can be difficult not to get caught in the mindset of "here's what I need to do, but there's so much, so I won't do it, and worry about it later." 

I guess that means for my own best interest, I will write again very soon. 

3:2 "when my love swears she is made of truth"

Shakespeare's sonnet, "When my love swears she is made of truth," changes meaning with each time it is read. Originally, this sonnet seems to describe a couple so in love that they forget their flaws when they're together. When read again, the ambiguous words stand out, such as "told" and "lies." The reader then notices that the speaker of the poem and his lover are of different ages, the latter being younger. The speaker seems to appreciate his lover's attempts to flatter him. However, "And wherefore say not I that I am old?" implies that the lover doesn't know the man's age. The line before that, "But wherefore says she not she is unjust?" suggests that the woman does not say whether or not she is faithful. "Oh, love's best habit is in seeming trust." This "seeming trust" is important, as it argues that the lovers feel that they trust each other, but still know it's not all real. From these lines, it can be seen that the relationship is not necessarily based on lies, but rather a small amount of truth. For the speaker, this doesn't seem to be much of a problem, as "lies" changes meaning in the penultimate line of the sonnet. "Therefore I lie with her and she with me," could suggest the two tell each other lies, flattering each other. However, it can be assumed that "lies" is referring to lying in bed together. This act clears the minds of the two lovers, making them forget their flaws and be consumed with the other. 

Shakespeare's sonnet briefly tells the story of two lovers, who are presumably insecure, as they trust each other, even while knowing the truth is not always told. Age and faithfulness are not shared at all, so are not actually lied about. This relationship is based on the desire to be wanted. 

3:1 children

There's just something about children that makes me have hope and feel good inside. When I think about them, I sit in amazement at everything about them. 

Children by nature are miracles, as human conception is such a strange and wonderful thing. Sometimes children full an empty space in parents' lives, giving them a sense of hope or purpose. These little humans change lives, whether as seen for the better or the worse. 

The curiosity children have shines in their eyes, as the simplest things amaze them. Things we take for granted- toys, shoes, water, hands, anything- are manipulated and inspected, as if to find the wonders they possess within them. Children are not born with preconceived ideas about what something is, what it's for, or how it works. It is up to them to work with an object in order to find that information. They learn from experiences what is good and what is bad. Likewise, children are not born hating anyone, no matter someone's gender, race, sexuality, religion, etc. If someone loves the child, they are loved back. As children grow, however, they are influenced by their environment instead of their own feelings. They no longer base judgment solely on how they are treated, but on opinions of others and stereotypes set by society. 

If we could all keep our childlike traits of wonder and excitement, curiosity and nonjudgmental love, then the world would be a better place.  

2:2 browning

Robert Browning's two poems, "Meeting at Night" and "Parting at Morning" go together, the latter being a sequel to the first. However, when looked at separately, these poems could be seen to have different meanings. "Meeting at Night" describes two lovers meeting after dark, both excited and nervous. I imagine both people to have butterflies in their stomachs, and their hearts beating rapidly. Adrenaline pumping, these two meet for an exciting night together. "Parting at Morning" then describes indeed the two lovers parting, though not how the reader would expect. This departure does not seem necessarily heart breaking or sad, as a separating couple might be. Instead, the speakers seems to feel free and almost happy to leave. Because of this, I think the lovers have different feelings for each other. This is not necessarily based on textual evidence, but I can imagine a situation. Perhaps these two are secret lovers, one with an ego, the other with low self-esteem. Both long to be desired, so meeting at night (when it's dark and no one can see them) to "spend time with each other" gives them both a rush. For the night, they forget about everything else but the other. However, in the morning the feelings have changed. The one with the ego feels better about his or herself, while the other may feel used. The last line of "Parting at Morning," "And the need of a world of men for me," makes me think the one with the ego is a woman, which is different than could be pictured for this character. I then think this woman may also have a low self esteem, which could be why she feels she needs the world of men in order to carry on. Like the sun and its light are codependent, so are this woman and the world of men. She needs them to feel good about herself, while they need her to feel good about themselves. Nonetheless, Browning's poems are thought-provoking. 

2:1 imperfections

The common thought of anybody: oh how I wish I were better. 

The negatives and imperfections are all too noticeable. 

Better body. Better hair. Better personality. Better life. 

It's hard to get back up when you find yourself on the ground,

But no one can help you unless you learn to help yourself. 

Sad as it is,

This is true. 

How much better would it be if we could turn all the wrongs into rights 

And live happily. 

I suppose life is all about self-acceptance and developing positive thoughts

But that's easier said than done. 

Not only is one against oneself

The eyes of the world seem to judge and hate as well. 

There is a glimmer of hope

Somewhere. 

Some days are good

Others not so good. 

Climbing mountains

And sliding back down.

Eleven at night may not be the best time to write.

Thoughts disassembled

Organization out the door. 

It's hard to get anything done, though

When you're on the same level as the floor. 

Tomorrow will be a better day. 

Less stress will follow me through 'til morning

Than the weight I feel holding me down now.

Sorrow will last for the night,

But joy comes in the morning. 

Psalm 30:5

1:3 hardy and heller

This is an extra, so the length doesn't count!

Reading "The Man He Killed" by Thomas Hardy reminded me of Heller's Catch 22. The speaker in this poem is similar to Yossarian, the protagonist in Heller's novel. Both characters seem to not fully understand what the point of war really is. They reflect on the fact that in any other circumstances, those men who are so-called enemies, could be friends or acquaintances with whom to have sophisticated conversations. Yet, here they both are, forced to kill they don't know for reasons unknown. Hardy and Heller both make excellent arguments for the absurdity of war and bring everything to a more basic level. When looked at upon each individual basis, war does not make sense. Soldiers must fight men and women just like them, simply from different parts of the world. We are all humans. When looked at closely, we see that this is true.

1:2 "is my team plowing"

Though we weren't assigned to read it for class, I read over "Is my team plowing" by A. E. Housman, and was moved by it. This is a poem between two friends; one dead, one alive. Up until the last stanza, this poem seems dear and sentimental. The dead man asks about the things of his past life, and his friend reassures him that everything is being taken care of. The dead man asks if his girl and his friend are happy and safe, and again he is reassured by his friend. However, the friend changes the meaning of the word "sleep," as we see with the last four stanzas:

"Is my girl happy,
That I thought hard to leave,
And has she tired of weeping,
As she lies down at eve?"

Aye, she lays down lightly,
She lies not down to weep:
Your girl is well contended.
Be still, my lad, and sleep.

"Is my friend hearty,
Now I am thin and pine;
And has he found to sleep in
A better bed than mine?"

Yes, lad, I lie easy,
I lie as lads would choose;
I cheer a dead man's sweetheart,
Never ask me whose. 

We can infer that the friend has taken a liking to his late friend's girl, which makes the reader think. This poem follows the style mentioned in  Housman's other poem, "Terrence, this is stupid stuff," where he admits that he writes pessimistic poetry, but is simply bettering himself to protect against reality. "Is my team plowing" is indeed a negative poem, expressing the cynical traits in human nature. Just like Caesar in his final moments, betrayed by his best friend, this dead man might too yell out, "et tu Brute?" if he were to learn was his friend has done.

Too often do situations like this happen, which makes me realize that Housman may be correct: humans by nature have only themselves in their best interest. Betrayal and deception are all too common, ruining relationships and breaking hearts. Housman gives readers a reality check for sure.

1:1 senior year

First post! Maybe a little short, and not totally perfected, but here it is!

English, government, and calculus, too

Scholarship essays and applications, woohoo

Yearbook portraits, pretty and nice

This senior year, I'm taking my own advice

Capstone project- watch it unfurl

This year I have to be a big girl

Though it is tough and there's so much to do

Senior year of high school. I'm almost through

Some friends will stay

Some will go

What matters most now is what I must know

About my future, it is near

These thoughts bring new fear

Prom will be here soon, 

a night to remember

Fire of our high school years burning out, leaving just embers

 We'll then walk across the stage,

Graduation. A coming of age. 

Tears will be shed, classmates held tight

Senior sunset, together for one more night

Then off we go, our own separate ways

Reminiscing of high school, remembering the days 

I hope we don't lose touch

That our paths cross again

Asking how you are and where you have been

What we've waited for is finally here

Have a great time

A great senior year