welp, it's six o'clock on may twenty-first and the rapture hasn't happened.tough break, harold camping. maybe the myans will have better luck next december.
5.21.2011
5.06.2011
"october fullness" by pablo neruda
[quite possibly my new favorite poem]
little by little, and also in great leaps,
life happened to me,
and how insignificant this business is.
these veins carried
my blood, which i scarcely ever saw,
i breathed the air of so many places
without keeping a sample of any.
in the end, everyone is aware of this:
nobody keeps any of what he has,
and life is only a borrowing of bones.
the best thing was learning not to have too much
either of sorrow or of joy,
to hope for the chance of a last drop,
to ask more from honey and more from twilight.
perhaps it was my punishment.
perhaps i was condemned to be happy.
let it be known that nobody
crossed my path without sharing my being.
i plunged up to the neck
into adversities that were not mine,
into all the sufferings of others.
it wasn't a question of applause or profit.
much less. it was not being able
to live or breathe in this shadow,
the shadow of others like towers,
like bitter trees that bury you,
like cobblestones on the knees.
our own wounds heal with weeping,
our own wounds heal with singing,
but in our own doorway lie bleeding
windows, indians, poor men, fishermen.
the miner's child doesn't know his father
amidst all that suffering.
so be it, but my business
was
the fullness of the spririt:
a cry of pleasure choking you,
a sigh from an uprooted plant,
the sum of all action.
it pleased me to grow with the morning,
to bathe in the sun, in the great joy
of sun, salt, sea-light and wave,
and in that unwinding of the foam
my heart began to move,
growing in that essential spasm,
and dying away as it seeped into the sand.
[quite possibly my new favorite poem]
little by little, and also in great leaps,
life happened to me,
and how insignificant this business is.
these veins carried
my blood, which i scarcely ever saw,
i breathed the air of so many places
without keeping a sample of any.
in the end, everyone is aware of this:
nobody keeps any of what he has,
and life is only a borrowing of bones.
the best thing was learning not to have too much
either of sorrow or of joy,
to hope for the chance of a last drop,
to ask more from honey and more from twilight.
perhaps it was my punishment.
perhaps i was condemned to be happy.
let it be known that nobody
crossed my path without sharing my being.
i plunged up to the neck
into adversities that were not mine,
into all the sufferings of others.
it wasn't a question of applause or profit.
much less. it was not being able
to live or breathe in this shadow,
the shadow of others like towers,
like bitter trees that bury you,
like cobblestones on the knees.
our own wounds heal with weeping,
our own wounds heal with singing,
but in our own doorway lie bleeding
windows, indians, poor men, fishermen.
the miner's child doesn't know his father
amidst all that suffering.
so be it, but my business
was
the fullness of the spririt:
a cry of pleasure choking you,
a sigh from an uprooted plant,
the sum of all action.
it pleased me to grow with the morning,
to bathe in the sun, in the great joy
of sun, salt, sea-light and wave,
and in that unwinding of the foam
my heart began to move,
growing in that essential spasm,
and dying away as it seeped into the sand.
5.03.2011
to travel
i try but fail to contain my devastating desire to travel. somewhere, anywhere. i am engulfed in the urge to see and experience all things new. i need my breath to be taken away by something bigger than poetry and pictures. i want to be in a place, have an adventure, that stirs in me the need to create literature and art of my own. i feel like finding myself and losing myself amidst landscapes that swallow me whole and architecture that bewilders me. i am eager to absorb a culture; eastern, western. it makes no difference. i long for the goosebumps and heart-skips that the wonders of the world have given me before. i want to, need to, deeply desire to travel. somewhere. anywhere. please.5.01.2011
a terrorist dies, america cheers, and i write a blog
my heart is conflicted on a daily basis. but tonight it is torn in two pieces. two pieces that have been thrown on opposite sides of a great, tall wall. osama bin laden has been killed, and i can almost hear the unanimous roar of american pride resounding through the nation. in fact, i can hear it. loud and clear. my t.v. is on in the background, and america' s voice is coming through the speakers chanting, "U-S-A! U-S-A!" but i've found myself incapable of cheering along.
i love my country; really, i do. and i so understand and even feel the sense of justice pulsing through the veins of the united states. this country lost thousands of lives at the hands of terrorism and bin laden. he has been the face of the enemy, of evil, of terrorism these past ten years. and for many, his death represents a victory over all of those. but in the midst of all the hype, all the congratulations and hoo-rahs, i can't help but stop and wonder if god would be chanting too, would be high-fiving america. i sort of doubt it.
people might find me insane, may call me crazy, but after hearing president obama's address to the nation, i took a moment to think about what had happened, to think about osama bin laden, and out of the blue popped psalms 139 into my mind. bin laden was a child of god. he was "fearfully and wonderfully made." i mean, wasn't he? i know it sounds unfathomable, but i believe it's true. and no matter how utterly monsterous the man was, god still loved osama bin laden. i mean, didn't he?
i'm not saying that i am mourning the man's death. far from it. there's a part of me--you know, the other side of my heart on the other side of the wall--that's glad he's dead. that is relieved that he's gone. that finds justice in his death. i read a quote tonight, some words of mark twain that resonated with me: "i've never wished a man dead, but i have read some obituaries with great pleasure." i want to embrace that pleasure. i wish i could. but i don't think i'll be shouting "U-S-A!" and fist-bumping america. at least, not with my whole heart.
i love my country; really, i do. and i so understand and even feel the sense of justice pulsing through the veins of the united states. this country lost thousands of lives at the hands of terrorism and bin laden. he has been the face of the enemy, of evil, of terrorism these past ten years. and for many, his death represents a victory over all of those. but in the midst of all the hype, all the congratulations and hoo-rahs, i can't help but stop and wonder if god would be chanting too, would be high-fiving america. i sort of doubt it.
people might find me insane, may call me crazy, but after hearing president obama's address to the nation, i took a moment to think about what had happened, to think about osama bin laden, and out of the blue popped psalms 139 into my mind. bin laden was a child of god. he was "fearfully and wonderfully made." i mean, wasn't he? i know it sounds unfathomable, but i believe it's true. and no matter how utterly monsterous the man was, god still loved osama bin laden. i mean, didn't he?
i'm not saying that i am mourning the man's death. far from it. there's a part of me--you know, the other side of my heart on the other side of the wall--that's glad he's dead. that is relieved that he's gone. that finds justice in his death. i read a quote tonight, some words of mark twain that resonated with me: "i've never wished a man dead, but i have read some obituaries with great pleasure." i want to embrace that pleasure. i wish i could. but i don't think i'll be shouting "U-S-A!" and fist-bumping america. at least, not with my whole heart.
4.14.2011
3.20.2011
"the minute i heard my first love story
i started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.
lovers don't finally meet somewhere.
they're in each other all along."
- - - - -
"we weep God's rain.
we laugh God's lightning."
- - - - -
"listen to the presences inside poems,
let them take you where they will.
follow those private hints,
and never leave the premises"
- - - - -
-rumi, selected poems
i started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.
lovers don't finally meet somewhere.
they're in each other all along."
- - - - -
"we weep God's rain.
we laugh God's lightning."
- - - - -
"listen to the presences inside poems,
let them take you where they will.
follow those private hints,
and never leave the premises"
- - - - -
-rumi, selected poems
3.14.2011
seven days, four states, one spring break
it's that time of year, and spring break has sprung again. that is, it sprang last week and has now wilted away, leaving behind only memories, photographs, and a good amount of home work that i neglected on my many days off. last year, i literally stayed in my pajamas 99% of the time and embraced every moment of rest and relaxation that seven days without school provided. however, this year, i nixed the r & r and spent my break state-hopping and adventure-having on the east coast. we (varying combinations of alanna, jared, nikki, claudia, and myself) ate cupcakes in georgetown; road-tripped to new york, where we frolicked through the city streets and took in a goose-bump-giving production of phantom of the opera; made a pit stop in philidelphia to eat some cheesestake and put on our best rocky impressions; consumed large amounts of country cuisine at cracker barrel (in virginia and new jersey); explored the smithsonians and beheld the monuments in washington d.c.; and had an all around wonderful time experiencing new places and reexperiencing old ones.
d.c. cupcakes in georgetown
smithsonian 
the monument & me
philidelphia: the windy city. ...oh wait, that's chicago? are you sure?
rocky!
conquering the rocky steps
30 rock-
yum!
3.02.2011
happy birthday dr. seuss
"today you are you, that is truer than true. there is no one alive who is youer than you." -dr. seuss
(shell silverstein and dr. seuss? this bookshelf has my heart)3.01.2011
remember the days?
remember the days i used to blog? let me be the first to admit that i not only failed my new year's resolution of being a better blogger, but that i've been a worse blogger in the past couple months than i've ever been before. it's no coincidence that the posts stopped the first week of the spring semester. upper division classes and a dedication to graduating summa cum laude have pushed blogging down on the priority list, among other things.
but don't worry, my other commitments will not keep me from blogging entirely. i have a week off of school starting saturday, and will be flying to the wonderful world of washington...dc that is. i'll be spending time with the dearest alanna moine, nikki lalague, and claudia iglesias whilst exploring the nation's capitol. i'm hoping that at some point over the break i'll be able to catch up on all the things i've been wanting to share with you, as well as blog about the trip itself. so, here's to hoping for some down time, some blog time. in the mean time, here's a few posts sitting in my "drafts" pile, just waiting to be published, to be part of this heart to hardt:
+TAG: a new transfer student program at plnu
+slow-cooking sundays: my crock-pot and me
+journey: my new home church!
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