something i just wrote...

Sliding through her dreams at night,
He's always there somewhere,
near the edge,
half shadowed, half bright,
barely beyond her fingers' reach.
When evil creatures, which spew
poison
and oil
to make her slip
slink and creep into her mind
to frighten sleep, when
they scream and she fears,
he is there, all
in black,
ready to rescue
but
never in time, and
teeth that shine with dripping slime
close over fatigue and
prick her suddenly awake
to see darkness and
to turn and
weep until her pillow, drenched,
weeps too.

aaahhhhhhhhhh!!

Wow. Yesterday there was a comedy show here. Somebody from VH1 (Pete Homes) who just so happens to be a Gordon alum... It was hilarious. It has been quite some time since I've laughed so much, so long and so hard. And it was free. I enjoyed myself immensely. So that was good.

It's been somehow a fatiguing week. Still too cold. And too windy. I've had a lot on my mind, especially pertaining to this summer and my future after that. Things like a special major (maybe) or a special minor, and maybe thinking about grad school. I've always assumed I couldn't go - at least not right away - because I have no money. But if I could find a good fellowship, I might be able to do it. And that is something I might enjoy. So now I'm trying to plan the next three or so years of my life, especially the next two, in addition to doing school and trying to spend time with people, and managing to just stay sane. This is all much more difficult that it should be. Especially since I still have no idea what I'm even going to do this summer! Grrr...

So I'm worn out, worn down, like butter spread too thin... And spring break is coming up, which could be an opportunity to rest, but I don't even know what I'm doing for that! I can't stay on campus, but I don't know where I'm going. I need to find out soon. Really, I just need to go somewhere. I'm getting antsy. I've been stationary too long. I'm getting the fidgets. I'm getting to the point where I want to jump and run in circles and slam my fist into trees or violently splash through waves or puddles, or just randomly punch people in the stomach... Ah, Moby Dick! I wish to methodically knock men's hats off, as he talks about... damp, drizzly November in my soul. My innards are getting twitchy.

I need something! Something! But I'm not quite sure what. I need some good hugs...

w00t!

I now have computer speakers! My music doesn't sound horrible. I no longer need to use headphones to hear the bass. This pleases me muchly.

And I bought food. And I ate yumminess (not dining hall food!) for dinner. Mmm beef.

So things are great.

dies irae, dies illa, solvet saeclum in favilla

If you have never heard Mozart's Requiem, then you need to. I just did. Live. And I cannot do it justice. I loved it. It drowned me, like the best music does. This alone is reason enough for me to accept that Mozart, whatever his faults, was a musical genius. I feel full, fed, covered, wonderful. It's the sort of thing that is beautiful pain. I forget to breathe. I cannot move. I just stare and drink the sounds. Especially the massive choruses, with the timpani and everything else. It fills the room, swallows me, is just plain wonderful. I hate the clapping at the end - it spoils the moment. After that last chord, there should be silence, to honor it, to drink it in. No clapping, at least not for a while. No clapping to cloud the memory. No clapping to ruin the feel, to throw the soul back down to the ground. Just silence, still ringing with the echoes of beauty and power. Just silence, filled with nothing but a memory of ecstasy. Just silence, to do homage to something glorious. Just silence, in which to draw in a slow breath to remind oneself that one is still on earth.

Too bad people wouldn't like the idea of a Requiem at a wedding. They use it for funerals; they should use it for mine, except then I'll be dead, and won't be able to hear it. So it should be at my wedding - not all of it, only some. But enough.

hate instead of love

I. Hate. Valentine's. Day.

There, I've said it. It's quite simple, actually. On the day when our commercial/consumerist culture says we should be thinking about red flowers, red candy, red everything, dinners, smooches, and all that jazz, I am thinking about smashing all of it. ALL. I hate how it's everywhere. Even if you want to pretend it doesn't exist, you can't help but see it. Yar. This is a long-standing pet peeve of mine. I cannot remember ever actually liking Valentine's Day. Perhaps someday, if I ever have a significant other, I won't mind it so much. But for now, my feelings towards it are quite simple: somebody take a knife and a gun and a lead pipe and any other weapon they can find and destroy it.

I must confess something, though. Yesterday, at our Princess Bride reading, there was paper and scissors and stuff, for the making of cards... and I made some. *gasp* But it's ok. They aren't Valentine's cards, per say; they're special - my own little stab at the mushiness. And it was fun to make something, especially since they turned out well. Especially the pretty black bats...

In other news, it snowed today! Then sleeted - which was quite painful, as it felt like small rocks were striking my face - then rained. So now there's slush and ice. My evening class got cancelled. Everybody's hoping tomorrow's classes also get cancelled. A friend and I braved the cold rain and slippery sidewalks to go to the dining hall and get a pizza to bring back for dinner. 'Twas quite the adventure. Mission accomplished. That was a good pizza. And I got to splash in slushy puddles! There's nothing else that cheers quite like splooshing through water in blue-striped rain boots...

reflecting in the water

Have you ever noticed how "silence" is such a peaceful, calming word?

No wind, no sound, no distraction. But not emptiness, either. Silence is such a beautiful thing. Silence, peace, ice, water, wind, trees, leaves, stones, forest, sky, rain, snow, light, music... rest.

Cool, challenging quote from somebody named Unamuno: "Those who believe they believe in God, but without passion in the heart, without anguish of mind, without uncertainty, without doubt, and even at times without despair, believe only in the idea of God, and not in God himself."

completely random

something in me wants to write. i don't care much what, just so long as it's something. and, oddly, for once i feel like writing something random here. so. my foot hurts. it started bothering me monday, i think because i wore those boots all day, which i never do. grr. and i'm tired. i took a short nap this afternoon because i was so exhausted. and the sad part is that it's nearly 1 am and i'm still awake. if i'm this worn out, then why don't i just go to bed and sleep like i want to? it doesn't make sense. i don't make sense.

rainbow lights flicker and die
snowflakes white settle and melt
heartbreaks deep weep, moan and sigh
and never another knows what was felt

sunbeams backlight floating dust
misty fogs swirl through the trees
rising from falling remains a must
we demand from the blind what he sees

heaven's glow reaches out of space
hellfire's heat hides in dark shame
glory bright reveals my empty face
and from the void a voice calls my name

good weekend...

this weekend, i went on an adventure. it went so well that i am more determined than ever to repeat it more often. 'tis good to see old friends.

it snowed friday night. then i went on a walk in the woods saturday afternoon. the ground still shone whitely, and crunched noisily under my feet. the snow sitting on the tree branches had mostly been turned to ice under the sun's influence. the air was still cold enough that it didn't just melt off. so i passed a bush whose every branchlet shone under an accent of ice. it was beautiful. i've seen pictures of such things, but can't remember actually seeing it before. i wanted to just stand there and drink of the scene, but it was cold and windy, so i kept walking to maintain a little body heat. then i crunched my way down the road to the pond. all the plants along the edge were bowed down the slope, and on every one of them lay a ridge of bright ice. down in the pond stood some grasses with fluffy heads, also frosted with white that glistened in the sunlight. it nearly took my breath away. this is what i like about winters here. even when nothing is green, when the shrubs are bare and the grasses bent and the trees skeletal, just a touch of water and some cold air create spectacular extravaganzas, with sparkles rivaling the mot expensive diamonds. no painter could do justice to the scene; no words can properly convey its appearance. this world continually amazes me. so beautiful, so beyond imagination. i am honored to live here. i am so glad that i can see. oh, the wonder of it all!

another poem.

another random poem. i wrote it very very late last night. a couple weeks ago, on my way up to new hampshire, we passed this cliff with frozen waterfalls on it. i'd never seen anything like it before, so i made note. i had written down the words "tears, ice, wait, falling" and also "hope, help" beneath. and i was looking at it last night, and wrote a sonnet. so here tis:
Frozen Waterfalls:

An ice veil freezes close to granite rock
Of the barren cliff-side. White and cold
It glows under the lonely moon, and off
Its glimmering folds fall watered tears annulled.
Black behind the brightness peers gloomy through
A stony face that swallows light alive
And hides the night sky from my searching view,
Although the falling stars from behind it rise.
Below I wait, in darkness, with a wind
Rising chill at my back, whistling with pain
And sorrow. I shiver. And hope rescinds
Its claim on my frozen thought without a name.
Across the paths of light above my head
My heart, crying, to death is slowly led.

So, yeah. It sounds a bit scary; don't worry, there's nothing wrong with me. But poetry I write late at night tends to sound melancholy. It was also nearly dark when we drove past the waterfalls, so they were glowing in the last light of day, glowing white against the dark. Quite beautiful, actually. In my creative writing class, one of the things we read mentioned that most authors have favorite words that appear in most of their poetry... I don't think the words I use are cheerful. Maybe that's because words like "cold" and "sorrow" and "dark" and "alone" just sound nice. Maybe my brain is a little twisted inside. Maybe I just need to write in more cheerful, brightly lit surroundings. Not that it matters much, though. Poetry doesn't have to be happy. Nothing does, really. Ummm... but don't worry about me; I'm fine. I'm actually doing quite well. And I must say I like the way "glimmering folds fall watered tears annulled" sounds. Pretty.