Random Monday Thoughts

I am going to a concert tonight. A Jonathan Coulton and They Might Be Giants concert. You may now be jealous.

I've been excited about this for months, almost as excited as I am about going back to New York for spring break. The most exciting part about both events? I won't be going alone. Jamila and I will be going together. It's nice that she wants her mommy around for these kinds of things.

I hate homework. I don't think that will ever change.

Unless you are in a very math heavy field such as astro-physics or one of the other "hard" sciences, you will never need to use algebra in the real world. All of the posters in your math class are lying to you.

It is amazing how two people of approximate weight wearing similar shoes can vary the amount of noise they make whilst walking up stairs or a ramp.

I think every school should have a library staffed with a librarian and children should learn why to use Wikipedia as a beginning source, not the only source for research papers.

If you fry your french fries in peanut oil, you should display a notice about doing so in a very visable and noticeable place, like the front window of your eatery. I'm not allergic to peanuts or peanut oil, I just hate the taste. Yes, I can taste the difference. Yes, I know that most people can't. No, I'm not just imagining it.

Anyone who uses a fake/imitation cheese or cheese product instead of real cheese in their food should not be allowed to use the word cheese to describe the food. They should have to use the word Yuck. If a pizza place uses imitation mozzerella or mozzerella cheese food, they should list their pizza as Yuck pizza, or pizza with Yuck and sausage.

ON HOLD

This blog is being ignored currently due to an overwhelming amount of schoolwork. My other blog is actually for class and will be updated more frequently. You are more than welcome to read my other blog and I will try to update this one when I get the chance.

New Poem

This is not something I wrote for class. This is just something I wrote for me. It is as yet untitled.


Untitled


I could set it in one of those
cafés that are really overpriced
coffee shops selling the Art
hanging on their walls
done by some great Artist
who just happens to be besties
with the manager

I could set it in one of those
Cities that everyone knows
until they live there Cities
of strangers Cities of light
Cities of wonder Cities somehow
different from the other Cities
just like them

I could set it somewhere
personal like my studio
with the fuchsia not pink
K superglued to the wall
because the mounting tape
would not work on the brick
next to broadsheet of Orlen
from the memorial gently framed
above the convertible couch
she used until she moved out
leaving me with my thoughts
and poetry to set.

Post Created Sep 16, 2011 10:34:20 AM

I wrote a poem for class Wednesday. A poem I won't post here because if it was a movie it would be rated NC 17. It was extremely adult in subject manner. I had no qualms turning it in and providing copies for my classmates since we are adults. At least, I thought we were.

After class, a classmate whom I've talked to a few other times and am on friendly terms with were discussing our poems. While we were talking about them, she told me how the guy who sits next to her responded to mine. He read the first line and demanded to know who I was. Just the first line. The line that has two profanities. The line that describes a sexual assault without implicitly stating it is such.

He would not read further. He judged my poem, and worse he judged me, by one line. One line that I intentionally made coarse and vulgar. I am not sure what he expects in a 400 level poetry class, but if he is that easily offended, perhaps he should switch to writing children's fiction.

Soul Separation

I was leaving my body behind
I was being drawn out
Not yet I thought
I started
A dream I must convince myself

I reached for you
Received no comfort
My small concern less important
Than the rain and the television

Post Created Aug 25, 2011 2:17:24 PM

All you want

All you want
Is my blood
To burn away
Your guilt

All I want
Is not to
Feel the anger
You left as
A consolation prize