Eccentric Randomness
I think the problem is that I get bored with things. And I know "things" is a terrible noun, but to include it all in one word, "things" is a necessary. This blog for instance.... It was neat at first, right? I mean, I posted a good bit, ect. But now...well, not so much, huh? Yet, it's not been completely abandoned, right? I mean, I post...sometimes...once a month...sometimes. Maybe it's just that I don't have much to write. Nah, that's not it. Maybe I would just rather write what I have to write in my journal or keep my quotes and poetry in a private space--not where anyone can invade and critique? Maybe. Or maybe I just get bored with "things." Hmmm. What do you think, O imaginary reader? What do I think? Wouldn't you like to know....
That was a random rant.
I cannot believe I'll be back in St. Augustine in a week! Wohoo! I'll be moving into the dorms on August 20th to begin R.A. stuff. I'm excited! And I'm super excited about the hall theme my hall partner and I are doing. Oh, what fun! I can't wait to decorate.... Oh, you want to know what the hall theme is? We are doing "Ancient Egypt." How cool! My hall partner Sarah Shipman came up with the idea. We had been talking about doing "Candy Land," but "Ancient Egypt" is a unique, crazy-cool idea! She's a history major, so that explains it all. Hehe. It's going to be way awesome!
Tomorrow night is the Dolphins vs. Jaguars game. I hope the weather isn't too bad tomorrow so that Jessy can come up for our Dolphin-party and spend the night.... That's enough of my ramblings for one day. *Muah*
*STARS*
"Star light, star bright...we look up and we hope the stars look down, we pray that there may be stars for us to follow, stars moving across the heavens and leading us to our destiny, but it's only our vanity. We look at the galaxy and fall in love, but the universe cares less about us than we do about it, and the stars stay in thier courses however much we may wish upon them to do otherwise. It's true that if you watch the sky-wheel turn for a while you'll see a meteor fall, flame and die. That's not a star worth following; it's just an unlucky rock. Our fates are here on earth. There are no guiding stars."
--Salman Rushdie, from The Moor's Last Sigh
Here's a quote to contemplate:
"Dream images and dream voices mingle with those of the real world. Yet the 'real' world begins to dissolve too, revealed as simply an extension of the dream."
--Joyce Carol Oates,
Marya: A Live
Oh, the thin thread of reality that we so desperately cling to....
What does your birth month say about you?
Hmmm.... This post is a little cheesy, yet somehow, fun! ;) I don't think all of this description is accurate--but I think the majority is! What do you think?
FEBRUARY:
Abstract thoughts. Loves reality and abstract.
Intelligent and
clever. Changing personality. Attractive. Sexy.
Temperamental. Quiet, shy and humble. Honest
and loyal. Determined to reach goals. Loves
freedom. Rebellious when
restricted. Loves aggressiveness. Too sensitive and
easily hurt. Gets angry really easily but those
not show it. Dislike unnecessary things. Loves
making friends but rarely
shows it. Daring and stubborn. Ambitious. Realizing
dreams and hopes. Sharp.
Loves entertainment and leisure. Romantic on the
inside not outside.
Superstitious and ludicrous. Spendthrift. Tries to
learn to show emotions
What does your birth month say about you? brought to you by Quizilla
Some favorite quotes from Foxfire: Confessions of a Girl Gang by Joyce Carol Oates
“The things that link us deepest, we can’t feel.
Except if they’re taken from us.”
--p. 9
“The world’s a cesspool so you better keep your head well up out of it and you fucking better learn how to swim.”
--p. 13
“There’s only one right way, but there’s a million million wrong ways which is why things get fucked up constantly.”
--p. 15
“The moon so bright you’d never think it could be merely rock like the earth’s common rock and lifeless, merely reflected light from an invisible sun and not a powerful living light of its own.”
--p. 17
“What is memory but the repository of things doomed to be forgotten, so you must have History. You must labor to invent History. Being faithful to all that happens to you of significance, recording days, dates, events, names, sights not relying merely upon memory which fades like a Polaroid print there you see the memory fading before your eyes like time itself retreating.”
--p. 44
“Living’s immediacy, you go full sail, you’re in a fever of motion. Until it’s safe and past and done and dead and you can say, like waking from a dream, ‘Yes I was happy then, yes now it’s all over I can see I was happy then.’ Maybe that’s the advantage of dying?”
--p. 56
“There are things you don’t want to think about if you’re female, say you’re a young girl or a woman you’re female and that isn’t going to change, right?”
--p. 101
“Say there’s a mirror you have trusted to give you a solid unblemished surface reflecting the world then suddenly it breaks and shatters revealing a thousand new surfaces, miniature angles of seeing that must have been there all along hidden in the mirror’s bland face but you hadn’t known.
Who is, who was.
Whoever’s reading this, if anyone is reading it: does it matter that our old selves are lost to us as surely as the past is lost, or is it enough to know yes we lived then, and we’re living now, and the connection must be there?—like a river hundreds of miles long exists both at its source and at its mouth simultaneously?”
--p. 179
“People have got to put a name on anything different from them.”
--p. 197
“Once you know to look with informed eyes you can never again see the WORLD like a palpable block or shape possessed of permanent dimensions, you can see only its swift shadowy MOTION.”
--p. 221
“She’s in that happy equilibrium state where you realize suddenly that NOTHING MATTERS except if you give it dominion over you to matter.”
--p. 238
“The paraphernalia of femininity!”
--p. 266
“The strangeness of Time. Not in its passing, which can seem infinite, like a tunnel whose end you can’t see, whose beginning you’ve forgotten, but in the sudden realization that something finite, a piece of Time, has passed, and is irretrievable.”
--p. 272
“She’d been mistaken believing that stars were permanent, telling herself the stars are there in the sky no matter how things change on earth—soon coming to learn of course the stars aren’t permanent nor are they even there, that’s the most ironic fact of all. The heavenly light you admire is fossil-light, it’s the unfathomably distant past you gaze into, stars long extinct.
Even our own sun, our domestic star, is eight minutes into the past. Look-back time it’s called, such tricks of light and Time, such paradoxes, best not to think of it. I mean—not to think of it with any emotion, not a shred.”
--p. 327
“Forecast”
The weatherperson flashes
To the satellite view
And like Van Gogh’s starry night sky,
The Atlantic is blooming
With unassuming amber swirls
Whose bright red eyes
Light up the radar screen,
So we take affirmative action
And impose on dispassionate Nature
A superficial alpha order nomenclature,
Insuring every faction gets its due:
Humberto, Iris, Jerry, Karen, Luis,
Maligned, Neglected, Ostracized,
Homo-hetero-multicultural
Gender-friendly juggernauts,
Who hover in a holding pattern,
Drawing battle lines in broad,
Indifferent strokes.
Oblivious to their names,
They may obliterate their namers.
We may heed the warning flags
And flee across the flood zones
In search of Ararat,
Each pair with their moniker
Politically correct:
An African-American twosome,
A Feminist duet, a Neo-Nazi pair,
A Christian Coalition,
And a matching set of Jews,
But each team will view the others
As animals unclean,
So Noah may say no this time, and turn us all away.
And as these storms make landfall,
And we pray for salvation
To our separate gods,
Our protests, strikes, and riots
Will all be done in vain,
For nature is impartial,
No exceptions to its rule.
If somehow we survive it,
And God decides
It’s just not worth the effort
To drown us all again,
He’ll splash another rainbow
In an arc across the sky
And hope we learn to be color blind
To its separate bands of shade
And realize the grandeur
Of the spectrum as a whole,
Appreciate unselfishly
The splendor of the blend.
--Todd Palmer
From
Shadowless Flight
"Evidently the only way to find the path is to set fire to my own life."
The only way to find the path is to set fire to my own life.... What does this mean? A life--my life: dense wood, ground covered with dried, crushed leaves and knotty-knobby roots, jutting out, tripping me as I try to find where the hell I am and where the hell I'm supposed to be going. Like the scene in Big Fish.... Thick spider webs hang menacinly down, catching and clinging to my face. As I try to ward them off--brushing them away with my hands. They cling to my hands, my body. Sticky threads surround me and now I am someone's dinner. Screeching. Screaming. Ominous noises echo in the silence. Am I in a horror movie? Where am I? I don't know. Oh, yes--my life. That sucks. So I can't see anything, right? It's foggy and the trees and underbrush form a wall. I'm surrounded--by walls. A box? Luckily, I posses a match in my pocket. I strike. It blazes. I can suddenly see. I fling it down and the dried leaves immediately ignite and spread the light that takes away the darkness. And then what happens? I die. Ignorance was better. Reality is too harsh and what I see burns my eyes as the fire surrounds me and chars my pink skin to black. To see the future is death. It is better to feel my way down the path of life day by day. Inch by inch. I trip, but I get up.
