for I have found my book list!
Huzzah!
...as you were.
2 hours ago
Friday, June 18, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Not so anonymous after all
So I’m coming out and admitting it: I have a problem. That’s the first step, right? Admitting you have a problem? Of course, I think that’s the first step to recovery and I’m not sure I really want to recover from this particular addiction. I, dear friends, am addicted to books. [Insert not-so-shocked exclamations here]. It’s seriously getting out of control though. I’ve fallen back into my habit of breaks in that I’m currently reading upwards of four books at any given time. In my defense, they’re (usually) different kinds of books. But yea, it is a little ridiculous and my family makes fun of me.
I’m also rereading books right now, which is kind of different for me. There are a few books that I frequently reread, but those are usually comfort reads/ books from my childhood that don’t take much time to read. So far this break I’ve reread Wicked, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Through the Looking Glass, Persuasion and Invisible Man and I’m now rereading Winter’s Tale, The Count of Monte Cristo, and The Tao of Pooh. I’m also thinking of rereading The Emigrants, Fahrenheit 451 and One Hundred Years of Solitude. And I feel like I’m in the mood to reread Pride and Prejudice and maybe Ella Minnow Pea. I realize I’m mentioning all these books now without really talking about them, but I actually do intend to write more about the books I’m reading. Eventually. I promise.
Have I mentioned that I also have an ever-growing stack of books that I have yet to read next to my bed? Actually, there are now multiple stacks. They’re almost level with my mattress. Yet another indication that I may be going a bit overboard.
I’m also supposed to be doing some theoretical reading to prepare for comp lit thesising. I should probably do that…
So yea, there’s a lot of reading going on this summer. I’m OK with that though. I still can’t find my book list and it’s driving me crazy. Between my general insanity and goodreads, I have a lot of updates to make, but I can’t make them until I find the blasted list. It’s probably somewhere really stupid, but I haven’t managed to convince myself to go through the giant college bins of doom yet. I’ll probably break down and do it in the next week or so. Or I’ll give up and just re-do the list. I do have an electronic copy, but I like having a hard copy too so that I can carry it around to bookstores and the like with me (yes, I know I’m crazy. You should too by now).
I really want to pick up some books at the library. There are a lot of books that I want to read but don’t necessarily want to commit to buying because, well, I’m poor and remained unemployed. This won’t necessarily help with the reading-multiple-books-at-the-same-time conundrum, but I figure go big or go home, right? Well… something like that. Maybe this weekend I’ll get over my fear that the public library will take one look at me and throw me in library jail and then all will be right and book-filled in the world.
I’m also rereading books right now, which is kind of different for me. There are a few books that I frequently reread, but those are usually comfort reads/ books from my childhood that don’t take much time to read. So far this break I’ve reread Wicked, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Through the Looking Glass, Persuasion and Invisible Man and I’m now rereading Winter’s Tale, The Count of Monte Cristo, and The Tao of Pooh. I’m also thinking of rereading The Emigrants, Fahrenheit 451 and One Hundred Years of Solitude. And I feel like I’m in the mood to reread Pride and Prejudice and maybe Ella Minnow Pea. I realize I’m mentioning all these books now without really talking about them, but I actually do intend to write more about the books I’m reading. Eventually. I promise.
Have I mentioned that I also have an ever-growing stack of books that I have yet to read next to my bed? Actually, there are now multiple stacks. They’re almost level with my mattress. Yet another indication that I may be going a bit overboard.
I’m also supposed to be doing some theoretical reading to prepare for comp lit thesising. I should probably do that…
So yea, there’s a lot of reading going on this summer. I’m OK with that though. I still can’t find my book list and it’s driving me crazy. Between my general insanity and goodreads, I have a lot of updates to make, but I can’t make them until I find the blasted list. It’s probably somewhere really stupid, but I haven’t managed to convince myself to go through the giant college bins of doom yet. I’ll probably break down and do it in the next week or so. Or I’ll give up and just re-do the list. I do have an electronic copy, but I like having a hard copy too so that I can carry it around to bookstores and the like with me (yes, I know I’m crazy. You should too by now).
I really want to pick up some books at the library. There are a lot of books that I want to read but don’t necessarily want to commit to buying because, well, I’m poor and remained unemployed. This won’t necessarily help with the reading-multiple-books-at-the-same-time conundrum, but I figure go big or go home, right? Well… something like that. Maybe this weekend I’ll get over my fear that the public library will take one look at me and throw me in library jail and then all will be right and book-filled in the world.
Poetry Break
Along with what feels like every other book in my house, I'm reading Nine Horses, a collection of poems by Billy Collins. I really like his style and so far I've come across a few poems that I really like, so I thought I'd share.
So here's my little disclaimer: I own nothing. All of the following poems were written by Billy Collins. Not me. I'm not so talented. There you go...
Velocity
In the club car that morning I had my notebook
open on my lap and my pen uncapped,
looking every inch the writer
right down to the little writer's frown on my face,
but there was nothing to write about
except life and death
and the low warning sound of the train whistle.
I did not want to write about the scenery
that was flashing past, cows spread over a pasture,
hay rolled up meticulously --
things you see once and will never see again.
But I kept my pen moving by drawing
over and over again
the face of a motorcyclist in profile --
for no reason I can think of --
a biker with sunglasses and a weak chin,
leaning forward, helmetless,
his long thin hair trailing behind him in the wind.
I also drew many lines to indicate speed,
to show the air becoming visible
as it broke over the biker's face
the way it was breaking over the face
of the locomotive that was pulling me
toward Omaha and whatever lay beyond Omaha
for me and all the other stops to make
before the time would arrive to stop for good.
We must always look at things
from the point of view of eternity,
the college theologians used to insist,
from which, I imagine, we would all
appear to have speed lines trailing behind us
as we rush along the road of the world,
as we rush down the long tunnel of time --
the biker, of course, drunk on the wind,
but also the man reading by a fire,
speed lines coming off his shoulders and his book,
and the woman standing on a beach
studying the curve of horizon,
even the child asleep on a summer night,
speed lines flying from the posters of her bed,
from the white tips of the pillowcases,
and from the edges of her perfectly motionless body.
"More Than a Woman"
Ever since I woke up today,
a song has been playing uncontrollably
in my head -- a tape looping
over the spools of the brain,
a rosary in the hands of a frenetic nun,
mad fan belt of a tune.
It must have escaped from the radio
last night on the drive home
and tunneled while I slept
from my ears to the center of my cortex.
It is a song so cloying and vapid
I won't even bother mentioning the title,
but on it plays as if I were a turntable
covered with dancing children and their spooky pantomimes,
as if everything I had ever learned
was being slowly replaced
by its slinky chords and the puffballs of its lyrics.
It played while I watered the plant
and continued when I brought the mail
and fanned out the letters on a table.
It repeated itself when I took a walk
and watched from a bridge
brown leaves floating in the channels of a current.
In the late afternoon it seemed to fade,
but I heard it again at the restaurant
when I peered in at the lobsters
lying on the bottom of an illuminated
tank which was filled to the brim
with their copious tears.
And now at this dark window
in the middle of the night
I am beginning to think
I coudl be listening to music of the spheres,
the sound no one ever hears
because it has been playing forever,
only the spheres are colored pool balls,
and the music is oozing from a jukebox
whose lights I can just make out through the clouds.
Today
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.
So that was my poetry sharing break. I hope you enjoyed it. I've been thinking about posting some of my own stuff if/when I ever start writing again. We shall see. But I do like sharing the stuff I'm reading and poetry is something that I can easily put up here for you guys to read.
So here's my little disclaimer: I own nothing. All of the following poems were written by Billy Collins. Not me. I'm not so talented. There you go...
Velocity
In the club car that morning I had my notebook
open on my lap and my pen uncapped,
looking every inch the writer
right down to the little writer's frown on my face,
but there was nothing to write about
except life and death
and the low warning sound of the train whistle.
I did not want to write about the scenery
that was flashing past, cows spread over a pasture,
hay rolled up meticulously --
things you see once and will never see again.
But I kept my pen moving by drawing
over and over again
the face of a motorcyclist in profile --
for no reason I can think of --
a biker with sunglasses and a weak chin,
leaning forward, helmetless,
his long thin hair trailing behind him in the wind.
I also drew many lines to indicate speed,
to show the air becoming visible
as it broke over the biker's face
the way it was breaking over the face
of the locomotive that was pulling me
toward Omaha and whatever lay beyond Omaha
for me and all the other stops to make
before the time would arrive to stop for good.
We must always look at things
from the point of view of eternity,
the college theologians used to insist,
from which, I imagine, we would all
appear to have speed lines trailing behind us
as we rush along the road of the world,
as we rush down the long tunnel of time --
the biker, of course, drunk on the wind,
but also the man reading by a fire,
speed lines coming off his shoulders and his book,
and the woman standing on a beach
studying the curve of horizon,
even the child asleep on a summer night,
speed lines flying from the posters of her bed,
from the white tips of the pillowcases,
and from the edges of her perfectly motionless body.
"More Than a Woman"
Ever since I woke up today,
a song has been playing uncontrollably
in my head -- a tape looping
over the spools of the brain,
a rosary in the hands of a frenetic nun,
mad fan belt of a tune.
It must have escaped from the radio
last night on the drive home
and tunneled while I slept
from my ears to the center of my cortex.
It is a song so cloying and vapid
I won't even bother mentioning the title,
but on it plays as if I were a turntable
covered with dancing children and their spooky pantomimes,
as if everything I had ever learned
was being slowly replaced
by its slinky chords and the puffballs of its lyrics.
It played while I watered the plant
and continued when I brought the mail
and fanned out the letters on a table.
It repeated itself when I took a walk
and watched from a bridge
brown leaves floating in the channels of a current.
In the late afternoon it seemed to fade,
but I heard it again at the restaurant
when I peered in at the lobsters
lying on the bottom of an illuminated
tank which was filled to the brim
with their copious tears.
And now at this dark window
in the middle of the night
I am beginning to think
I coudl be listening to music of the spheres,
the sound no one ever hears
because it has been playing forever,
only the spheres are colored pool balls,
and the music is oozing from a jukebox
whose lights I can just make out through the clouds.
Today
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.
So that was my poetry sharing break. I hope you enjoyed it. I've been thinking about posting some of my own stuff if/when I ever start writing again. We shall see. But I do like sharing the stuff I'm reading and poetry is something that I can easily put up here for you guys to read.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Done is...
FINALLY!
I have just sent in my last final from last semester. Sending it was a pain because it had scans and therefore the file was too big to actually email. I figured it all out though...I hope.
In any case, done is GOOD and now I can focus on other things, like my continued lack of a job.
Well, now I'll have more time to avoid doing my Chinese homework. That'll be exciting.
Speaking of Chinese, I have class tonight. I don't actually mind the class or anything, but traveling to the class and just motivating myself to actually move is becoming a struggle. I shall endure, however. I shall endure.
I should probably finish my homework...
I have just sent in my last final from last semester. Sending it was a pain because it had scans and therefore the file was too big to actually email. I figured it all out though...I hope.
In any case, done is GOOD and now I can focus on other things, like my continued lack of a job.
Well, now I'll have more time to avoid doing my Chinese homework. That'll be exciting.
Speaking of Chinese, I have class tonight. I don't actually mind the class or anything, but traveling to the class and just motivating myself to actually move is becoming a struggle. I shall endure, however. I shall endure.
I should probably finish my homework...
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
A short review as study break
I'm working on finishing up my last paper (for AWLW - go figure), but I need a bit of a study break or I may go crazy. And so my procrastination is your reading recommendation (sort of. I just wanted it to rhyme).
I just finished Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden. Considering it’s a 500-page book, it’s a pretty quick read.
The story is interesting, but the writing didn’t thrill me. At times it was kind of aggravating and I found myself losing interest. The book definitely shed some light on some parts of geisha-dom (is that a word?) that we don’t necessarily understand as westerners, but sometimes I just didn’t buy it.
The most interesting part of this book for me was probably the characters and their interactions. I didn’t always like them. In fact, I often found them insufferable, but the dynamics between them kept me interested. I wanted to see how things would play out. My one complaint with the characters is that sometimes I felt like there was something missing – like there was a disconnect between the last thing we saw with the character and whatever was being introduced next.
So yea, basically Memoirs of a Geisha = a good read, but nothing extremely special. I don’t think it’s genius or anything, but I enjoyed reading it and would probably recommend it if I thought it was the kind of book that someone was looking for.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Mind. Blown.
"
AT FIRST I DIDN’T GET THIS because my brain was all “well duh he’s an egg, of course he is an egg,” and then i recited the poem to myself AND THEN I WAS LIKE “HOLY SHIT HE MIGHT NOT BE AN EGG”my mind is blown
then i ran down the hall to share with my friend and she didn’t think it was quite as amazing or earth-shattering as i did. BUT HE MIGHT NOT BE AN EGG, GUYS. HE MIGHT NOT BE AN EGG
"
So I saw this on my friend's tumblr (thelostlolli.tumblr.com), but I don't have one, so I can't reblog it. In any case, this blew my mind as well and I thought I needed to share it. I'm not at school anymore, so there was no running down the hall to share this earth-shattering news with a friend, but I did share it with my mom. She was not as amazed as I was. Oh well.
In other news, I'm currently watching Extreme Poodles on TLC. These people pick themes and then dye/groom their poodles according to the theme. Then there's some sort of performance type thing like at a pageant or something I think. I'm not 100% sure, we're not all the way through yet. It's crazy, but part of me is starting to stare at the dog and decide what color we should dye her...
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Not really about books, but too bad
So today I went to a free yoga class. I’ve been meaning start yoga again since it’s some sort of exercise and it’s relaxing, and this particular class was my favorite price – free. Generally speaking, the class probably wasn’t that hard, but my meds make my body hate me, so I had to stop for a while and just sit and breathe. They have these free classes every week though, so I figure if I stick at it, things will get easier. Even though I just sat there for quite a bit of the class, I still came out of it feeling good (if not incredibly sweaty) and relaxed and whatnot. I’ll probably be sore beyond all reason tomorrow, but I’ll deal with that later.
The rest of the day I’ve mostly spent working on my last paper. Oh medical extensions – truly a double-edged sword if ever there was one. I’m thankful that I got the extension because I was not in any position to finish it in time for the original due date. That being said, now it’s summer and I’m starting to feel better and I just don’t feel like doing schoolwork. But, alas, I must. And so here I sit. Procrastinating. By writing my blog. Which was once homework and therefore not really procrastinating. Too bad that isn’t the case now…
I have a lot of ideas for things to write about or tackle for this blog, but I haven’t gotten around to actually working on them yet. Hopefully once this paper is out of the way. Hopefully. We’ll see.
The rest of the day I’ve mostly spent working on my last paper. Oh medical extensions – truly a double-edged sword if ever there was one. I’m thankful that I got the extension because I was not in any position to finish it in time for the original due date. That being said, now it’s summer and I’m starting to feel better and I just don’t feel like doing schoolwork. But, alas, I must. And so here I sit. Procrastinating. By writing my blog. Which was once homework and therefore not really procrastinating. Too bad that isn’t the case now…
I have a lot of ideas for things to write about or tackle for this blog, but I haven’t gotten around to actually working on them yet. Hopefully once this paper is out of the way. Hopefully. We’ll see.
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