Focus

Or rather, the fact is that at the moment, I'm not focusing. I'm just not managing it, which is odd: it's usually something I'm pretty good at. But right now, I just don't want to work. So I'll do this, and then maybe do some reading for East ASian Lit- that doesn't feel like work, but it still needs to get done.

So, I was just writing to Nathan, and I realized that while I've had assorted guy friends stay in my room, and it is utterly a non-issue, I'd want him to stay somewhere else, most likely. It just feels like another boundary to be crossed. It's amazing how much more things seem to be a big deal in a relationship. In some ways I'm grateful for that: it keeps me aware of just how different dating someone is. I mean, it's hard to forget, precisely, but it is easy to sort of let that awareness fade.

I wrote a poem I rather like recently. I've gotten up the courage and shown it to a few people, so I'm thinking that I'll post it here too. I think I like it. It's rather inspired in structure by my East ASian lit class: Chinese poetry loves parallel structure. It is, as yet, title-less. So here goes:
A flower grows in teh desert,
wandering wolves beseige it,
prickly cactus assault it.
"Dreamer, why do you cry?
A flower is but a flower,
No dream can teach you reason."
A flower blooms in the desert,
chipmunk hands grasp it,
desert winds assault it.
"Dreamer, why do you gasp?
A flower is but a flower,
No dream can teach you thought."
A flower wilts in the desert,
ant hoards steal away from it,
cold nights assualt it.
"Dreamer, why do you moan?
A flower is but a flower,
No dream can teach you hope."
A flower is tested in the desert,
desert air starves it,
particles of sand assault it.
"Dreamer, why do you weep?
A flower is but a flower,
no dream can teach you love."

So there it is. I hope the formatting holds, it's all just spaces, etc, as I'm computer-incompetent. If not, then argh, and we'll see if I can fix it. That's it for now, I think.

Focus

Or rather, the fact is that at the moment, I'm not focusing. I'm just not managing it, which is odd: it's usually something I'm pretty good at. But right now, I just don't want to work. So I'll do this, and then maybe do some reading for East ASian Lit- that doesn't feel like work, but it still needs to get done.

So, I was just writing to Nathan, and I realized that while I've had assorted guy friends stay in my room, and it is utterly a non-issue, I'd want him to stay somewhere else, most likely. It just feels like another boundary to be crossed. It's amazing how much more things seem to be a big deal in a relationship. In some ways I'm grateful for that: it keeps me aware of just how different dating someone is. I mean, it's hard to forget, precisely, but it is easy to sort of let that awareness fade.

I wrote a poem I rather like recently. I've gotten up the courage and shown it to a few people, so I'm thinking that I'll post it here too. I think I like it. It's rather inspired in structure by my East ASian lit class: Chinese poetry loves parallel structure. It is, as yet, title-less. So here goes:
A flower grows in teh desert,
wandering wolves beseige it,
prickly cactus assault it.
"Dreamer, why do you cry?
A flower is but a flower,
No dream can teach you reason."
A flower blooms in the desert,
chipmunk hands grasp it,
desert winds assault it.
"Dreamer, why do you gasp?
A flower is but a flower,
No dream can teach you thought."
A flower wilts in the desert,
ant hoards steal away from it,
cold nights assualt it.
"Dreamer, why do you moan?
A flower is but a flower,
No dream can teach you hope."
A flower is tested in the desert,
desert air starves it,
particles of sand assault it.
"Dreamer, why do you weep?
A flower is but a flower,
no dream can teach you love."

So there it is. I hope the formatting holds, it's all just spaces, etc, as I'm computer-incompetent. If not, then argh, and we'll see if I can fix it. That's it for now, I think.

close but no cigar

OK, it got the lines right, but not the indentation. For your reference, the sets of lines in quotations should be indented as a block, every time they show up. It's sort of a poem in two voices: a technique I like, but which has confused people in the past before. Sort of an internal dialogue made external. I suppose I wrote this poem (almost exactly a week ago) as an expression of a lot of other peoples' lives, and my perceptions of them. It's more of an emotional impression than anything else. I'm seeing several friends as if they're feeling like a flower in the middle of the desert. It can be an awfully familiar feeling. But well- the more things go up, the more they go down.

close but no cigar

OK, it got the lines right, but not the indentation. For your reference, the sets of lines in quotations should be indented as a block, every time they show up. It's sort of a poem in two voices: a technique I like, but which has confused people in the past before. Sort of an internal dialogue made external. I suppose I wrote this poem (almost exactly a week ago) as an expression of a lot of other peoples' lives, and my perceptions of them. It's more of an emotional impression than anything else. I'm seeing several friends as if they're feeling like a flower in the middle of the desert. It can be an awfully familiar feeling. But well- the more things go up, the more they go down.