Monday, October 25, 2010
More Magical Music Monday

I just now looked her up and found out that she has adorable brown locks now, instead of her bizarre Bikini Kill circa 1990 bleached blonde haircut.
And she has a new album out!
And she toured with Mumford & Sons!
And I just love her.
Am I the only one that thinks she looks like Paul McCartney when she sings?
Friday, October 15, 2010
Fantastical Music Friday
Don't be scared. This isn't another "Hey. I'm an actor. That must mean I can sing too!" horror a la Russell Crowe. Forget about who sings in this band (and if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you) and just listen. It's really fantastic.
I mean, I bought this album. I never buy music. Ever. Trust me. It's worth it.
I mean, I bought this album. I never buy music. Ever. Trust me. It's worth it.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Poor Poor Poem
This week's assignment was to write an imitation poem.
The poem I'm imitating:
The Woman Who Is Early
by Nin Andrews
The Woman Who Is Early is always at least one step ahead of
time. She is always rushing and rushing. Where-ever she goes,
she is already there long before she arrives. Whatever she is
saying, she has already said it before the words leave her lips.
Whatever song she is singing she is already so sick of it, and she
wishes she could get it out of her mind. Whatever meal she is
preparing, she has eaten it before taking the first bite. Whatever
man she desires, she had made love to him a thousand times
before he ever undresses her. A man can never make love to her
the way he did once upon a time, before he made love to her. Of
course therapists tell her she should slow down and rest a spell.
Relax. She has heard those words long before she ever sees
therapists. Does she have to explain it to them again? How a
great wave is chasing her? It is rising above her head even as she
thinks of it. If she looks back, just once, it will wash over her.
She will instantly drown. Of course, she is right. That's why she
has already drowned.
My poor imitation of it.
At least this class is teaching me literary humility.
The Woman Who Is Late
after Nin Andrews
The Woman Who Is Late is always at least one step behind time.
She is always lounging and lazing. Wherever she goes, she never arrives.
Whatever she is saying, she says to no one in particular since they
have already gone before she can speak. Whatever book she loves,
she never reads since it has long since gone out of publication. Whatever
meal she makes, she has to throw away since it has expired before she
can taste it. Whatever high school sweetheart she longs for, she tries to
seduce after he has already married and retired. A man can never love her
when she is only now in the present, considering the boy of the past. Of
course everyone tells her that she needs to stop dawdling and stop making
everyone else wait for her. Hurry up. She doesn’t hear these words until it’s
too late. Why didn’t they tell her sooner? Can they not see that the moving
sidewalk she is on even now is slowing? She chases the people ahead of her but she can’t ever seem to reach them. If she trips and falls, just once, she’ll be sent flying backward. She will never be able to catch up. Of course, she is right. That’s why she is left alone in the past.
The poem I'm imitating:
The Woman Who Is Early
by Nin Andrews
The Woman Who Is Early is always at least one step ahead of
time. She is always rushing and rushing. Where-ever she goes,
she is already there long before she arrives. Whatever she is
saying, she has already said it before the words leave her lips.
Whatever song she is singing she is already so sick of it, and she
wishes she could get it out of her mind. Whatever meal she is
preparing, she has eaten it before taking the first bite. Whatever
man she desires, she had made love to him a thousand times
before he ever undresses her. A man can never make love to her
the way he did once upon a time, before he made love to her. Of
course therapists tell her she should slow down and rest a spell.
Relax. She has heard those words long before she ever sees
therapists. Does she have to explain it to them again? How a
great wave is chasing her? It is rising above her head even as she
thinks of it. If she looks back, just once, it will wash over her.
She will instantly drown. Of course, she is right. That's why she
has already drowned.
My poor imitation of it.
At least this class is teaching me literary humility.
The Woman Who Is Late
after Nin Andrews
The Woman Who Is Late is always at least one step behind time.
She is always lounging and lazing. Wherever she goes, she never arrives.
Whatever she is saying, she says to no one in particular since they
have already gone before she can speak. Whatever book she loves,
she never reads since it has long since gone out of publication. Whatever
meal she makes, she has to throw away since it has expired before she
can taste it. Whatever high school sweetheart she longs for, she tries to
seduce after he has already married and retired. A man can never love her
when she is only now in the present, considering the boy of the past. Of
course everyone tells her that she needs to stop dawdling and stop making
everyone else wait for her. Hurry up. She doesn’t hear these words until it’s
too late. Why didn’t they tell her sooner? Can they not see that the moving
sidewalk she is on even now is slowing? She chases the people ahead of her but she can’t ever seem to reach them. If she trips and falls, just once, she’ll be sent flying backward. She will never be able to catch up. Of course, she is right. That’s why she is left alone in the past.
Friday, October 8, 2010
You're the end of the rainbow, my pot of gold
My dad occasionally teaches chapel at the school he works at. Most of the time, he likes to include a personal, self-deprecating anecdote, complete with pictures. And I'm the one that winds up scanning them onto the computer. So as I was scanning them late one Tuesday night before the Wednesday morning chapel, I noticed some distinct similarities between my dad and I. See if you can find them.
Labels:
Daddy's Little Girl,
Michael Bolton,
Prince Valiant,
Triplet
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Disney!
I can't believe I've never talked about my Disney obsession before. I've loved Disney ever since I was little. "Beauty and the Beast" was the first movie I ever saw in a theater. Either that or "Curly Sue." Very similar movies...very similar...
The first time I ever went to Disneyland was on Easter when I was probably 3 or so. I was convinced we were going to Disney World and my older (and obviously wrong) brother knew it was Disneyland. We argued. He won. Whatever. Like it even matters.
Pfft.
Anyway, since my family has generally gone to Disneyland in the winter (January-early March are prime Disney-ing times. Rain + no crowds= amazing), around this time of year I start jonesing to go.
All that to say...
This is one of the greatest tv shows ever recorded:
The first time I ever went to Disneyland was on Easter when I was probably 3 or so. I was convinced we were going to Disney World and my older (and obviously wrong) brother knew it was Disneyland. We argued. He won. Whatever. Like it even matters.
Pfft.
Anyway, since my family has generally gone to Disneyland in the winter (January-early March are prime Disney-ing times. Rain + no crowds= amazing), around this time of year I start jonesing to go.
All that to say...
This is one of the greatest tv shows ever recorded:
Labels:
Beauty and the Beast,
Curly Sue,
Disney,
Disneyland,
EJ Peaker,
Kurt Russell,
Osmonds
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Printmaking
I'm also taking Printmaking this quarter. I had absolutely no idea what that meant when I signed up but it fit the qualifications I needed and Photo was long filled up.
Basically, it's stamp making...from hell.
We did our first carving (yes, carving) and everyone had these intricate, perfect designs.
We did our first carving (yes, carving) and everyone had these intricate, perfect designs.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Macabre Poem Monday
("Macabre" here, meaning: 1. gruesome and horrifying; ghastly; horrible.)
This week's assignment was to write about details. I didn't. HA! Stick it to the man.
(For why I'm writing poems, go here)
Burdens
My face too large.
Their bodies too small.
My face against the ground.
Their bodies running in circles.
Me.
Them.
Human.
Ants.
I watch.
They carry the bodies of their fallen friends.
I wonder.
They set one down and pick another one up.
I say, “It’s time to let them go.”
They say, “It’s time for you too.”
It's kind of shaped like an ant head/neck/shoulders...weird and unplanned. I'M NOT CRAZY!!
This week's assignment was to write about details. I didn't. HA! Stick it to the man.
(For why I'm writing poems, go here)
Burdens
My face too large.
Their bodies too small.
My face against the ground.
Their bodies running in circles.
Me.
Them.
Human.
Ants.
I watch.
They carry the bodies of their fallen friends.
I wonder.
They set one down and pick another one up.
I say, “It’s time to let them go.”
They say, “It’s time for you too.”
It's kind of shaped like an ant head/neck/shoulders...weird and unplanned. I'M NOT CRAZY!!
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