Your lungs fill & spread themselves,
wings of pink blood, and your bones
empty themselves and become hollow.
When you breathe in you’ll lift like a balloon
and your heart is light too & huge,
beating with pure joy, pure helium.
The sun’s white winds blow through you,
there’s nothing above you,
you see the earth now as an oval jewel,
radiant & seablue with love.
It’s only in dreams you can do this.
Waking, your heart is a shaken fist,
a fine dust clogs the air you breathe in;
the sun’s a hot copper weight pressing straight
down on the think pink rind of your skull.
It’s always the moment just before gunshot.
You try & try to rise but you cannot.
– Margaret Atwood
This pretty little thing was in my exam today, and it totally lifted my spirits up. It deals with pleasant thoughts of dreams contrasting with the harsh reality of our life. Although the poem shifts to the negative near the end, I was somehow more affected by the first part, and by the end of the poem I was still high on joy.
Hope you like it as much as I do, penny for your thoughts?
“As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods;
They kill us for their sport.”
Spot on, Shakespeare Sir.
At face value death is normal, something we’re all used to. But when you wonder about it, it’s quite impossible to understand how a person can exist one day, and no longer exist the next. Or is it just me?
( RIP sir, much appreciated)
Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrr- I love the sound my cool new thingy does. After two years, I am once again a proud owner of a fully functioning printer. And in fact I’ve gone a bit printing mad today.
I’m looking around me, everything is covered in a lovely layer of freshly printer papers. My room currently resembles an ocean; of papers; only nothing is floating; so it’s more like a blanket of papers really.
I am however, floating above the ocean of work I have to do. No really, don’t laugh at that! I’m floating because I’m not doing it. Get it? I should be swimming through it, but I’m not.
Got to go now, must print something.
Another year’s over, and a new one just begun, and what have you done? I am, more or less, in the same place I was a year ago- with some exceptions. I am a very optimistic person, and in a year I plan to be, a better version of myself, while still being myself.
A year ago I had to carry an extra ten kilos (need to lose about four more) of fat on me wherever I went, but ironically even though I was more self-conscious I was also more confident. A lot of people have been telling me that I talk a lot less than I used to, that I am generally always quiet lately. I am naturally a quiet being, but I feel less energetic lately, I am generally lost in my thoughts…but mostly I just don’t know what I’m expected to say back to some things some people feel the need to tell me. But never ever before has a teacher told my mother I’m too quiet in class and that I need to talk more, and that utterly left me speechless- it’s madness I tell you!
(Resolution #1: Got to work on the confidence thing)
Oh and another thing I’d like to change would be my care-o-meter. I let things distract me really easily. I need to be more indifferent to things, and not let little things influence and affect me as much as they do. And I need to get my priorities sorted, I need to care about my school life, my future and all that more than any friends or social life this year with my A-levels coming up and what not. I will be more laid back (it is possible), and not look into things as much.
(Resolution #2: Set priorities right)
Since I’ll be turning eight-teen in a matter of months, yea that’s right- be jealous, I have to learn how to drive this year, and get into university as an B.A English student. Which means I also have to be more open about the stuff I write, and actually tell more than two people about this blog. Quoting a teacher of mine, I have to “stop burying my potential” -Shiver.
(Resolution #3: Dig up my potential, yeaaaa!)
And this is something I have to mention just because it feels missing, it wouldn’t be right not to mention it. This year is the year, I will stop brutally murdering my nails! Dum-dum-dum.
(Resolution #4: Let nails live.)
So basically, this year I want become a confident, louder, legally-licensed university student with elegant nails, who weights a little over forty-five kilos and doesn’t let anything get her down. Cheers.
Here’s a picture of my lovely dogs Spike and Snoopy, when they were still alive last Christmas. (I miss them, it’s not the same.)
Now, tell me, did Santa Claus come down your chimney and empty his sack under your tree, did he make you happy with a toy on Christmas day? Dirty bastard.
Anyway, I would like to wish you a Merry Christmas, from the comfort of my bed. So happy christmas, I hope you have fun. Excuse me now, I have presents to unwrap, and time to sleep away.
Attention ladies and gentlemen! I have found my Christmas spirit, some of it at least, and it is here to stay! I do believe it could be possible that some magical elf showed up and sprinkled some Christmas spirit onto me during my sleep. On the other hand it could just possibly be thanks to all these fine Christmas parties I have been attending lately, with my lovely gal pals and the rest of the gang.
And as for my own Christmas party, well turns out you need more time to organise one! Now that’s going to be a ‘Welcome to the New Year’ kind of thing, smirk.
Pssst, I’m somewhere in that photo.
I woke up to realise it was Christmas Day, and out of a family of five, not one of us had bothered to buy, wrap, and place at least one present under the poor, pretty tree. I felt a sudden gush of disappointment with a sugary-guilt topping.
My emotions were all topsy-turvy, and then I really woke up. I checked the calendar to notice that to my luck, it was still the 13th of December- and then, the real guilt kicked in. My thoughts were too vague to be described. Christmas is about ten days away, and Christmas shopping had not yet even strolled through my mind. It occurred to me that while a decade ago I had a 3-month-Christmas-countdown, now I did not even have a 2-week-notice of it. And what’s even worse is the fact that I wasn’t even bothered to demand my annual, much loved, Christmas envelope from my dear parents. I have noticed that my anticipation for Christmas has been lessening over the years, but have I out-grown Christmas?
After finding out that Santa Claus was a myth at the innocent age of seven, and spending another couple of years after that putting up a tray of cookies and a glass of cold milk for Santa, (which my parents had stopped being bothered to eat, desperately hoping that I will finally get the hint), my Christmas spirit had dimmed a little bit. It felt like someone dropped a sack of shit on my imagination. But I still looked forward to Christmas at least when the calendar flipped over to December, until recently apparently.
There’s exactly twelve days to Christmas, and really, that’s not a lot. So now, I’m putting on my Santa hat, and going to try to embrace Christmas as much as possible. Starting off by organising my very own Christmas party. Santa baby, I really do belive in you, now let’s see if you believe in me.
A lot of my possesions are fond of this game, and quite good at it too.
I’m Sat down feelin’ all ambitions an’ all, but I can’t find my notes, my much needed and hardly recognisable notes which I jotted down during Spiteri’s class last year. Good guy- interesting, amusing, smart. I miss him, and his notes. They seem to be in the mood for a lil game, and I seem to be it.
Where oh where are my notes? Come out come out wherever you are. I’ll shut my eyes, and count to three, maybe they’ll come out of hiding.
I was appreciating Fowles’s use of similes when I find myself wondering how my English teacher would look with a toupee on, which reminded me of how much he resembled Elmer Fudd, yes, he is the piggie-looking hunter from Bugs Bunny. That lead me to picturing an image of Bugs Bunny chewing on a carrot, and I could almost hear him saying “HEHEHE-WHAT’S UP DOC” when my thoughts were rudely interrupted and I was brought back to the classroom by hearing the teacher go on about “bestial orgies”- and I had no idea what it had to do with the meeting of Charles and Sarah in chapter twelve, but my mind made an imaginative feast of out it.
… I don’t think I’m going to pass my A-levels in 5 months.