cinderphoenix

Thu, 01 Apr 2004 23:21:01 GMT

Coming back to life after several crazy weeks at the end of the marking period...
God it never ends, even though the marking period is over on Friday, we still have tons for the weekend.
It was really cute though, cause Mrs. Wiede was showing us this new format that she wants for our essays, where you have your initials and the page numbers on upper right hand corner of each page, so she starts class by saying " Now, how can you make sure that pages of your essay will stay together?" and everyone looks up and goes, "um, staple it?" And gets so embarrassed and goes, "oh, I never thought of that." It was crazy shit, but it was really cute.
They finally announced the winners of the Princton Poetry Countest today, I didn't get it, and neither did Robin Myers, which was rather disappointing. Logically I wasn't expecting to win, since its crazy prestigious, but it still would have been nice cause you do get yourself worked up about it. (however, Nick Cox got a Honorable Mention, so congratulations Nick if you happen to be reading this=)

Anyway off to Yoga...Thursday just keeps going and going.
It occurred to me that this is the 4th year anniversary of my Bat Mitzvah. How crazy is that?

Wed, 17 Mar 2004 21:06:40 GMT

Word of the day: reincarnation. Trying rolling it around your tongue.It's a fun word.

Ironically enough, I got a 91 on my driver's ed test. I guess the world can keep on spinning.
I think I'll take a page out of Diane's book and transcribe a poem I've sorta been mulling over. I was really disappointed that there did not appear to be poetry club today. Acts must be gotten together, all around.
Anyway, this is by Elizabeth Bishop. Its in the Best American Poetry 2001. I kept taking it out and reading it every so often during the day,I think its rather intriguing.

I especially like the title:

Vague Poem

The trip west
-I think I dreamed that trip
They talked a lot of "rose rocks"
or maybe "rock roses"
-Im not sure now, but some one tried to get me some.
(and two or three students had.)

She said she had some at her house.
They were by the back door, she said.
-A ramshackle house.
An Army house? No, " a Navy house," Yes,
that far inland.
There was nothing by the back door but dirt
or that same dry, monochrome sepia straw Id seen everywhere
Oh, she said, the dog has carried them off.
(A big black dog, female, was dancing around us.)

Later, as we drank tea in mugs, she found one
"a sort of one." "This one is just beginning, See-
you can see here, it's beginning to look like a rose.
IT's-well, a crystal, crystals form-
I don't know any geology myself..."
(Neither did I)
Faintly, I could make out-perhaps-in the dull,
rose-red lump of (apparently) soil
a rose-like shape; faint glimmers...Yes, perhaps
there was a secret, powerful crystal at work inside

I almost saw it: turning into a rose
without any of the intervening
roots, stems, buds, and so on; just
earth to rose and back again.
Crystallography and its laws;
something I once wanted badly to study,
until I learned that it would involve a lot of arithmetic
that is, mathematics.

Just now, when I saw you naked again,
I thought the same words: rose-rock, rock-rose...
Rose, trying, working, to show itself,
forming, folding over,
unimaginable connections, unseen, shining edges.
clear pink breasts and darker, crystalline nipples,
rose-rock, rose-quartz roses, rose, roses,
exacting roses from the body,
and the even darker, accurate, rose of sex-

whoa, that was really time consuming to write, yet oddly relaxing. I think that there would be worse things in life than being a stenographer.
Anyway, Im not sure I could pinpoint specific things that fascinate me, but I just find this poem really neat.

Its been an interesting day. I think for once, not a bad one, which is unusual these days. (Fishing for sympathy I guess with that last line, which is not so great I realize.)

Tue, 16 Mar 2004 22:14:27 GMT

Today was one of those in between days, where you're not sure how to judge anything over all. I find that its always much nicer when things fit into tight little categories of really freakin awesome, or astoundingly horrible. On the bright front, I think I didn't fail my math test and such, which is always good, but on the other hand, I also don't think I did as well as I could have. Ah well..Math really needs to die now. Particularly SAT Math.
We watched Maury in drivers ed and saw various people disfigured by road rage accidents. Its always good to get your daily dose of voyerism somehow.
Cotter was awesome today; we were doing economics 101 type stuff in order to get up to the crash 0f 1929, so he creates this hypothetical airplane company headed by Obed and Allie, and then somehow manages to drag in references to shirley temple addiction and blowing up Martin Luther King's Atlanta church. As much as I sometimes want to kill him, Im seriously going to miss that class next year. Also, I got to be the ruined stockholder, which was awesome. And then in Spanish I was the entire maurading Columbian army, so this was quite the metaphor day for me.

Hm...I know this happens every year, but it really feels like 10 zillion years since september. And yet, I'm right exactly where I was then. And the year before as well. Thats a depressing thought.

Een, Yuundaayaa naa, ellaa b-haw yawmaa laa (In aramaic: Yes I'm Jewish, but I wasn't there that day

Tue, 16 Mar 2004 00:06:33 GMT

There's this idea of consciousness. This is this gift which we have fussed over for so many years as what defines humanity. Herein, according to the poets and the whoevers, lies the beauty as well as the double edged knife. Find me one other specie swho is so conscious of the fact that they are alive and so terrified off wasting that time. Who talks about a cat wasting his life? And yet, humans are so concerned about not just simply not fucking up this experience, but doing something thats gonna leave their mark, while in reality, I don't know? Does it matter?
And I'm sitting here writing, because I've been reading Annie Dillard and I'm trying to feel really deep and medatative; but in reality, all I'm achieving is feeling like I'm trying to hard. So isn't it crazy hypocritical? At the same time, whats the point if Im not trying to be philosophical during my day, because maybe thats what saves you? Or am I just thinking on this too hard over all.
Two things, I think, brought this on. Or three if you count reading the Dillard. The first is serious stress about summer plans. I'm not sure. I think I'll end up going abroad. And I think thats a good thing, but I'm frankly terrified. I also have to decide who I'm doing this for, because I think I want to be challenged, but I also frankly have no idea.
The second thing is, my spanish teacher's husband died yesterday. And I don't know how much I want to expound on that because I mean, I didn't ACTUALLY know him, and so it hasn't been exactly this horrible crushing thing. Its frankly terrifing though, for someone to go that quickly, especially because he wasn't that old. I know that if I ever had any one leave like that, from inside my little bubble of friends, I would feel like my bottom fell out from under me. So, I feel for her, in some sort of objective, detached way. Does that make me horrible?