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timerippleLast night I went over to watch the season premiere of The Office with RR and A. I took the wrong road from Union Square, asked for directions, and ended up following some drunk guy to the Star Market, whereupon I knew where I was and how to get where I was going. I arrived promptly at 8.
Trust me to have to get lost in Somerville at night with a dead cell phone battery in order not to be early.
Today I’m listening to the Wellesley College Choir, especially “I Am Not Yours,” which is a poem by Sara Teasdale set to really lovely music.
I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.
Oh plunge me deep in love - put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.
Appropriately enough, I’m finishing up my reading on feminist theory. Ahhh.
I can remember a time when Friday and Saturday nights were sacred. No Work to Be Done on These Nights. Now I have class Monday and Thursday like twin poles, and everything in between is getting to them.
And I’m kind of loving it. Maybe I had to go through five years of Greek and things to recover this joy in analyzing English. It’s a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure. Not that I don’t love Greek and Latin. I do. But I’m actually enjoying this, and not in a masochistic way. Also I don't have to haul multiple dictionaries around.
It is raining and windy- hurricane remnants, I think- the perfect day to snuggle with books in my garret room. I have an enormous paper, a small paper, and lots and lots of reading. Luckily I also have tea, a window for the rain to beat against, time management skills, and the Brahms Requiem. As a result, I am happy.
Trust me to have to get lost in Somerville at night with a dead cell phone battery in order not to be early.
Today I’m listening to the Wellesley College Choir, especially “I Am Not Yours,” which is a poem by Sara Teasdale set to really lovely music.
I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.
Oh plunge me deep in love - put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.
Appropriately enough, I’m finishing up my reading on feminist theory. Ahhh.
I can remember a time when Friday and Saturday nights were sacred. No Work to Be Done on These Nights. Now I have class Monday and Thursday like twin poles, and everything in between is getting to them.
And I’m kind of loving it. Maybe I had to go through five years of Greek and things to recover this joy in analyzing English. It’s a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure. Not that I don’t love Greek and Latin. I do. But I’m actually enjoying this, and not in a masochistic way. Also I don't have to haul multiple dictionaries around.
It is raining and windy- hurricane remnants, I think- the perfect day to snuggle with books in my garret room. I have an enormous paper, a small paper, and lots and lots of reading. Luckily I also have tea, a window for the rain to beat against, time management skills, and the Brahms Requiem. As a result, I am happy.
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no subject
Date: 2008-09-29 10:52 pm (UTC)isn't that just a beautiful feeling? ;)
I'd love to get my act together and come see your garret room one of these days.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-30 04:39 am (UTC)Maybe by the time you visit I'll even have some, um, furniture. *sheepish*