Then again...

Well, well, well. Look who we have here. Oh. It's just me. ha! I realize that my absence has been relatively prolonged, sorry about that. A lot has happened since I last posted anything of great interest... ok well, at least anything of any interest  :P... but we shall get to all that later perhaps.  A friend the other day said "so many thoughts, so little time...", which I countered "so little thoughts, so much time...".  I will admit I was feeling somewhat guilty about this, but he encouraged me saying that it is natural to feel a bit emptied out after graduation.  I think I'm feeling a little more than that, but that is ok.  At any rate, I made some changes trying to find some sort of focus for the time being.

As you can see I've been switchin' it up a little bit. Decided it was time for a new background -- but I must say, this isn't turning out so well.  The first one (stucco looking) was admittedly a little bland, and well, this new one seems a wee bit over the top. Even for me!  We shall have to see how it goes... feel free to yay or nay. Speaking of the ol' blog - Welcome to Vatche for joining the weird world! First came across his blog from The Teacher's View (one of my favorite fyi!)... Anyway, he has some great insights and writings to share over at his blog The Student Writer's Mind. Check it out! 

Also I gave up facebook for 30 days. This has given me time to read several books (half way through book four, not too shabby... no wait, make that five, I reread Beowulf...does that count?) and get some writing done, however short. It has not however given me time to clean my room yet. weird. More time to work in the orchard with the irrigation system we are installing, every other day, incidentally, since the rain comes and goes, and to clean up around the place, fixing fences and chicken coops and what have you.

The facebook thing has been a little hard, but this is day ten and I don't think that I will fall short of the thirty days. It gets easier as the days go on, for several reasons. At any rate I stand to gain a book of my choosing if I last the month. Woot!

Well, that is all for now.

Walter Cronkite

I was sad to hear that Walter Cronkite had died. It didn't really come as a surprise as he was rather advanced in years and had become clear that his last days were at hand, however, the death of such American icons is always something to reflect on. It seems that there have been many deaths lately, not that I suppose there has been a spike in death, that, at least, seems always a sort of constant. Of course, Walter Cronkite was not of my generation, but I remember hearing of him from my parents and grandmother. "Most trusted man in America..." That is something special, and I wonder if anyone could live up to that sort of praise in today's twisted and shallow new reporting. I stopped watching the news years ago, literally, in a very deliberate way, because it is everything but accurate. I realize any time something is told or reported it can get lost in translation, spun from different view points, and exaggerated/downplayed, however, I find the deliberate dumbing down and obvious buffoonery of the American people to be sickening and more depressing than anything they could ever show in the news cast. Take this recent obsession with Michael Jackson, when the same week something like the number of Swine Flu cases in the UK was doubling each week, with an outlook for almost the entire population being infected by the end of the summer. You know, you expect stupid news sites, like Yahoo, MSN etc... the ones that just have anything and everything, to be obsessed with Jackson -- its all very mainstream, popular, hit generating -- but CNN, the BBC, the Times, even (but not as much) NPR and other more "serious" newsies were exactly the same. Well, it is bound to happen, I suppose. Perhaps it is too much to ask of people to pay attention to whats going on and to want more than networks telling them whatever they wish to spin. Anywho! Back to Cronkite: I like this article that was in the Times, which has quotes from readers concerning the death of Cronkite.

On a happier note, and completely unrelated, except by era, I have been entirely obsessed with Herman's Hermits lately :) So, for your general amusement, here are some Herman's Hermits vids :) Peter Noone makes me smile, but you can call him Herman if you like :)

Silhouettes:





Mrs. Brown, You've Got a Lovely Daughter:

Reflection

I mentioned it earlier, however the link did not work at that time, so I figured I would re-post this. I was lucky enough to have a poem printed in Gonzaga's journal "Reflection". It is Gonzaga's Journal of art and literature, and they are always eager to receive "anything interesting" from students, etc. You can find it here on Gonzaga's website. There is some really great stuff in here and in past issues, so be sure to take a look if you're at all curious (I personally like last semester's issue better) :)
Support student work! :)

Halelujah!

(Just quickly because I have to leave for class)

Today is the last day of classes! I am beyond excited! I still have finals, and a ridiculous amount of papers to finish by Wednesday, but other than that Im good for the summer. Yay! Also I got my job for the summer all set. Things are looking up for now :) Hopefully Ill finally have some time to post, instead of making drafts and then never publishing them.

Also, I read today that Carol Ann Duffy was chosen as Poet Laureate of the UK. 341 years of the Poet Laureate and finally a female poet -- good deal :)

Oh yeah, one more thing :) I had one of my poems published in Gonzaga's Reflection. Print. yay! Finally :)

Well, off to Metaphysics and Central Europe for one last time!

Now would be the time I would like to write -- when I need to write, to get all these things out of my head and onto paper in some sort of a cohesive fashion. Get something flowing; anything, whatever it is. A poem, hiding in those deep recesses, waiting to be treated properly, brought out in the light where it belongs. A thought that has been hibernating, but never has the chance to see the spring or summer. But now is also the time when I can't write, because I haven't the time. I haven't the clarity. There is always that paper, those papers, in the back of my mind, due tomorrow, but against which my very being rebels. I don't really have the time to write it, because I'm tired and it's been a long day, but if I did have the time, would I write it? I don't even have the will. What happened to me? When did I stop loving this? It was all I had left... and now? That idealism that used to be my fuel is all but turned to cynicism... I don't know. And winter is come again...

a thought about summer...

So, have you ever been in one of those places where you feel like you belong. Like you've grown up there. Where you've spent countless hours running through the woods and walking down the lanes. Where the sun shines a bit brighter and the rain falls a bit softer? "Perhaps," you think, "I might stay forever here and be happy always?" There's something bewitching about the way the shadows fall across the tire worn path out to the back field, the way the crooked fence stretches down beside it, holding back the pasture on its side, the way the leaves rustle in the still breeze. Something bewitching, and yet so real. My life away from here seems like the dream. The busy life in which we do so much, seems like it means nothing. Rather these lazy summer days seem so much more full. I long to photograph every shadow, every rock, every blade of grass, the field, the tree, the bird, the wind...but they are nothing in these pictures. I know this. I know that we can but live beauty like this; we can but let it raise us to higher things. We cannot keep it for ourselves, can we? Can we become part of it without making a god of it? In it is the glory of God, but it is not the glory of God. I lose sight of this. I would lie down in these green pastures never to rise again if i could. If only i could grasp even the tiniest bit of existence with which they overflow. Man is so much more alive, and yet i feel that we do not know it. We do not grow tall and grand like the maple, nor do we bow gently and beautifully like the hay; we dont even know the length to which a man can grow. There are so many possibilities, and yet, we can't even see one of those possibilities. These things are in possession of the fullness of their nature and yet they know nothing. We, we clever men, do not, at times, even know our own nature. How very ridiculous it is. How we fail to live up to the natural dignity of mankind, let alone to that dignity to which Christ raised us when he assumed our nature. I would stay here forever if it were only to remember this always. But I know man's place is not alone. Why do we like a tree better when it has a swing, a river better when it has a boat, a garden better when it has a bench? The very fact that a worn path and a fence can be poetry to me, speaks admittedly of our social nature. We must go back, if only to keep these things sacred. ...."I go to the hills, when my heart is lonely..." but it is not the staying in the hills that heals one. It is the coming back down that finally mends the heart. It is not the sleep before the big game that gives us glory and worth, even though it is essential. Likewise, it must be the work that we do when we come down from our 'real' world that purifies us, and the time spent among the beauties of the world, is that which refreshes us. I would stay here forever... but then I would long for my mountains and pines. And this place would become my world from which I would want to escape... The shadows would grow oppressive because of the sun that made them, the lanes would become confining because they lead always to the same places, the fence would turn bothersome because it needs attention. No, i will not stay here. But I will return so that I can remember. "My heart is restless..."

07-30-07

How can i keep from singing?

" My life goes on, in endless song, above earths lamentations, I hear the real, though far-off hymn that hails a new creation. Through all the tumult and the strife I hear its music ringing. It sounds an echo in my soul; how can I keep from singing?" Some people inspire us through action, some through words and thought, others through music, and still others through art; each of these are noble in themselves, but the person to whom I would like to pay tribute has influenced me through all these mediums. Daily through her actions, her encouragement, her perseverance and her constant cheerfulness she taught me and other students what it means to live a life worth living. She showed us what it really means to live our Faith and to live it well.
In the boarding school to which I went we called the nuns mother. Seems a bit weird at first, but truly you realize that really they are your mothers, for they give to us the life of the intellect just as our biological mothers give to us the life of the body, and a boarding school is just like a family. Mother Gabriel of the Sacred Heart was the Prioress of our school for nine years, as well as its founder. Out of the depths of the Idaho forests she made it possible for a magnificent school and chapel to be raised from the granite mountainside. In 1990 she came to this country with six other nuns and started our school in a small green house with just five boarding students and a few day students. Now, some fifteen years later there are five buildings with row upon row of desks in beautiful classrooms and bedrooms aplenty. They are now bursting at the seams with over 30 boarding students and 200 day students. And what else has she to her name? A girls choir, which has produced two CDs of polyphony, one sacred the other Christmas, and which some say is the most beautiful they have ever heard. But besides this choir being so beautiful, she really gave us something by teaching us music. She gave us love, and desire, she gave us the will to give ourselves completely to something. She taught us unity and discipline, and helped us to understand that " Sacred music is a double prayer," and that " Next to silence, music comes closest to expressing the inexpressible."
All this and more she has given us, and all the while very sick with a heart condition, yet never did I see her complain or be unjustly angry, or just plain grumpy. Always a smile, always a twinkle in her eyes. How, then, can I keep from singing, when, like a mother, through song and her example she has given me the wings to rise above the lamentations of this world?

12-06-06

hanging by a thread

Pain is an interesting thing. A strange thing. It seems so ruthless and raging when you are consumed by it, yet, it's so hard to remember. Of course there's always a little red sign in your head to remind you of the time, but if you really try and think about it, think about how bad it really hurt, it's almost impossible to remember. For me anyhow. I guess that's the genius of our creator? Our mind can do so much more than we know, especially with pain. If we don't realize that it's painful, we tend to shirk it off, say it's not so bad. If the worst physical pain you've ever felt was a broken arm or something, then who are you to say it's the greatest pain one could have? I think sometimes you can measure it by how much it takes your breath away? I dont know. It is so hard to concentrate though, when you're in pain...i'ts like there's a sick feeling in your gut besides the actually hurt; your throat sticks, and your tongue cleaves to your jaw. You realize after awhile that your shoulders hurt too because your body is trying too hard to deal with the pain that everything else tenses up to try and support the part that's not doing its part. Your teeth are clenched, and finally you end up with a headache too because of it. Pain.... it's so real when it's there...but when it's gone, it's so easy to forget. I can remember all these things, but the pain itself, my mind trys to forget. And when it comes raging back...it's a nightmare all over again -- if only I'd remembered....
But this isn't for the body only...pain in body, soul, mind, heart...it's all the same...if only we could truly remember....but then maybe we'd all feel this way...maybe forgetting is a mercy given to us....

01-15-06

Perhaps...

Define: Worthless
Its a funny life we live. Would you agree? At times we feel compelled to do one thing, while at other times it seems so completely futile to pursue it. I try at times to convince myself that the good far out weighs the bad, but does it really? I understand that it does because it is so much more valuable... "one ounce of virtue practiced in tribulation is worth more than a thousand in times of peace and joy...", but its so hard to believe. Knowing is not believing, unfortunately. And yet in between the fire of good and the bad, the joyful and the sorrowful, the hopeful and despairing, there is a no man's land, a land of ice, and fog, and emptiness. Have you ever been on the prairie in the middle of winter? The fog is all around you, your voice sticks in your throat and as it closes in, it's swirling thickness seems to hand you over to the calls of the coyotes? It's like that in that no man's land. No fire to light you in love or hatred... and yet you continue, because you seem to have a vague recollection of a warmth once felt, a fight once fought, a faith once real.
There is something more, you remind yourself. And yet, so often that hope is flung away and shattered like an icicle upon the frozen ground. You rely on one person to show you the way, you see in another the strength to continue, you find inspiration in another, but you are all too often reminded that they too are human. When one stronger than yourself fails, what then are you to think? Perhaps it is not a failure for them, but in your eyes... and suddenly, without any particular reason, you do feel worthless, you do feel good for nothing.
Who has not felt this way? And sometimes I wonder if that is the lot of man, to feel worthless, to realize he is nothing and in perspective that he does nothing? "Comrades, I call upon you now to bear me witness, when have we felt ourselves happy men?" Of course there is some happiness and joy, but it doesn't last... but the sorrow, that seems to last... but i wonder... perhaps it's ok to be sad? To feel empty deep down inside. If we are not bitter, then perhaps sorrow is only natural to man. An indefatiguable smile on your lips, yet sorrow in your heart... perhaps this is the true meaning of man. What is it Tennyson wrote of Ulysses...:

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in the old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal-temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Perhaps that is what makes him a man..."He is the sane man," says Chesterton, " who can have tragedy in his heart, and comedy in his head..." A friend once said "for those who can hold the memory of the past in an insane world, that heart stands fast." Must we hold then, the memory of the past in our hearts... for it is a sad memory -- an irish story of sorts --, a memory of what we could have been, what we should have been, and realize, there is only one mistake in life...?

01-20-06

falling down, double meanings...

He is in my every thought. When I wake in the morning and before I fall asleep at night there he is. He is in my every smile and my laugh, and when I'm sad it's because I have forgotten about him. It is for him I do those little things which perhaps normally I would be loathe to do. He is there when I feel alone, and he takes my hand to show me the way. It's for him that I work when I feel like doing anything but work. When I feel like walking, He pulls me into running with him. He bids me catch up with him when I lag behind. For him I smile when I feel like sighing. He is the reason I come home late when I'm tired. He makes me laugh when all I want to do is cry. He is the reason I keep breathing when I no longer want to. He is my reason. He is my everything. I would give of myself completely for him, if only he asks it of me.... Will he ask it of me?...and... does he even exist?

10-07-05