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Sonnet ’49

Against that time, if ever that time come,
When I shall see thee frown on my defects,
When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum,
Called to that audit by advis’d respects;
Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass,
And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye,
When love, converted from the thing it was,
Shall reasons find of settled gravity;
Against that time do I ensconce me here,
Within the knowledge of mine own desert,
And this my hand, against my self uprear,
To guard the lawful reasons on thy part:
To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws,
Since why to love I can allege no cause.

I may not be well versed in the works of Shakespeare yet, but believe me, I intend to be one day. I found this sonnet by accident while studying for the SAT subject tests. It was in one of the practice tests I did, and I remember freezing and reading it over and over until I got the intonation and the meaning just right. The humanity and simplicity of the poem just staggers me. It is beautiful, and so typical – just a person, a regular person, being so scared that they’re not worthy of their loved one and sure that they’ll leave them one day. It’s amazing how little humanity changes over the years when it comes down to the day to day emotions and characteristics.

Snail Mail

There is something superbly romantic about sending letters. Actual letters. Written by hand, in an envelope, stamped and sealed. It’s too bad it’s a thing of the past. Of course, emails are quick, easy, accessible from anywhere nowadays and just plain BETTER in many ways. But they don’t have a personal touch, not unless you make each email a work of magnificent poetry and prose.

If anyone has read Stephen Fry’s The Stars’ Tennis Balls, they know that there is a wonderful description of how letters used to be in the first few pages. To anyone who hasn’t read the book – do. His descriptions of the letters of two teenage lovers, newly enamored with each other, are just incredibly funny and betimes even poignant.

A romantic to my core – sadly, I seem to be alone amongst my friends in this sentiment – I wish sometimes that I lived in a time where letters were exchanged as fast as possible and with excitement and were passionate and interesting. However, a cynic to my core as well, as I’ve stated before, I know that would mean we also would have to marvel at the price of stamps and swoon at everything and drink lots of tea or something. Perhaps not such a good idea then.

A Complaint Of The Spoiled

I have too many books to read. Ridiculous, I know. Not too many in the sense that I won’t have time and that I need to read a certain amount of books and meet a deadline. No, no, it’s much worse than that in the stupidity scale of complaints. No, I have too many books to read, literally, and I want to read them all right now, this second, and I can’t.

Why can’t I? Why, indeed. Mostly because I’m a nostalgic idiot and I promised myself I’d reread a trilogy of books I read years ago. Just because I felt like it. As I am strange, I am actually honering that vow to myself and so I’m now in the second book of the trilogy. Each book, I might add, is at least seven-hundred pages long. This is part of why I adore these books – they’re long, drawn out sagas that make me marvel at how the authoress invented such political and dramatic tangles.

But now I have a shelf-full of books that I bought in London, just waiting for me to pick them up and crack the cover for the first time. I can just feel the heat of their glares, the way they’re clamoring for attention in their silent way. Should I read Wicked first, or perhaps the light and fun Stephanie Meyer novel?

Oh, woe is me. What a hard life I do lead.

20 Hours In America

To anyone who hasn’t seen this episode of The West Wing – you must. It is incredible. I shall now explain my claim in detail. Consider this practice for writing a review. Sort of.

First of all, any episode of any TV show that starts with repeatedly saying the words “soy bean fields” simply because they’re funny is a good episode. Second, any episode of any TV show featuring a song by Tori Amos also has to be pretty damn swell. Thirdly, a couple of quite attractive men being smart on screen about real issues has to be a plus.

But apart from those O-so-obvious reasons, this episode deals with issues that are still relevant today. The stupidity of certain political candidates, the fall of the dollar and the things that a stock market collapse brings about, human nature at its pettiest and at its kindest.

Although this episode is filled with hilarious quotes and language games – something The West Wing is always full of, due to its incredible writers – this is still my favorite quote, just because it’s so true and so relevant:

It should be hard. I like that it's
hard. Putting your daughter
through college, that's-that's a man's job. A man's accomplishment. But it
should be a little easier.
Just a little easier. 'Cause in that difference is... everything.

Focus Now

Alright. What could be more simple? Just look up a few websites and read a bit of info and write some of it down. Nothing could be simpler. I think I’ll just go get a cup of coffee first.

Alright, coffee is now in hand. I can start working. Ok, first site. Hmm. Yes. Interesting. Uh-huh. Oh! Phone call. Alright, phone call finished, twenty minutes lost. No biggie though. Phone call was important. Oh damn, there it goes again. Alright, another half hour down the drain – but it’s ok, I still have a few hours to work.

Just going to make a piece of toast. Can’t work on an empty stomach after all. Right? Right-ho. Munching on toast is fun. I always like to eat the crust first and then sort of take tiny bites of the actual bread and chew them. Ok, must focus again now. Must keep working well. Oh, oops, haven’t actually gotten all that much done yet… Well, on to work now.

Alright, I’ll just watch ONE episode of Battlestar Galactica, but then I WILL get back to work. Mhmm.

Doesn’t it always go like that? Focusing isn’t as simple as it seems, is it?

Coffee On The House Tastes Better: A Haiku

A pessimist to my core, I don’t often have much faith in human kindness, and so I rejoice in it whenever I find it. Something small happened today that really made me smile and made my day better.

At work, there’s machine coffee that tastes horrible, so I normally go and buy my coffee at a little cafe in the building. Yesterday, there was no milk there, and the guy who works there was really nice about and apologized many more times than he had to.

Today, I went to get my coffee hoping there would be milk by then. Not only was the line endless, but also when I finally got to place my order, I found out there was only this weird “light” milk, something fake I guess. I was desperate for coffee so I asked him to make it with that anyway. So, “for the hardship of the whole milk thing,” he gave me my coffee on the house and wouldn’t hear of me paying, no matter how much I insisted.

To express my joy, a haiku [that is probably wrong somehow]:

Of milk there was none,
So you were kind and heartfelt,
Thank you coffee man.

Normalcy in the Face of Grief

She stared around with her currently dull, sleepy eyes. She saw everyone around her, but also seemed to see through them, see their intentions. They all stared eagerly ahead, so intent on understanding, so intent on impressing, on seeing who was knowledgeable and who wasn’t. Eager, all so eager. She slowly shifted her gaze over them all. Why are they acting like this? She thought. What do they gain from it?

She was presently struck again with how much her grief distorted her perspective and views on life. Nothing seemed so important anymore. As long as you keep living, even in total numbness, what does it matter what your future holds? What does it even matter what the present holds? What’s the use of striving to greatness or even comfortable mediocrity? She didn’t care what would happen in her life anymore, as long as she kept living somehow.

This sprang to my mind at work today, and I quickly wrote down the words on my little pad of paper that I carry in my bag everywhere. Dramatic, perhaps, and quite depressing to tell the truth, but I just started thinking about writing this, so I did. I will resume my usual nonsensical posts on the morrow.

Cookies Are the Answer to All Woes!

Except the woe of gaining weight, of course. But they ARE the answer to anything and everything else.

I always wanted to know how to bake really well and be able to bake lots of different things. For now, though, I’m content with making the yummiest chocolate-chip cookies in the world. Yeah, you’ve got it right – the Nestle Tollhouse ones.

These mouth-salivating photos are really of the cookies I made today and are courtesy of the talented Sir. B. F. whose blog you can access by clicking the link on the right.

A Thousand Words: So Much More Than A Picture

Three in the morning, the lit hands of the clock tell you. You glance down, uncaring. For why should you care? Nothing in the world is more important right now than the hero, the heroine, the man in the cloak or the maiden in distress. Nothing is more important than the dragon atacking the village or the homely man begging for food. Nothing at all.

You inhale the smell of the pages, the new white pages. Sometimes they’re old, dusty, crinkly, yellow pages. Those are the best. They smell like memories, they smell of thunderstorms and late nights and train-rides and parks. Those pages are a life unto themselves, wrapping in them so many words, so many emotions and stories.

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. Surely not. A picture could never come close to the feeling of reading a four page description of a landscape or a dinner table or an outfit. A picture cannot encompass the feelings of a desperate man or stranded woman or a wounded soldier.

Three in the morning, the lit hands of the clock tell you. You sigh, happily. As long as there are books in the world, you can be at peace.

What do you write about when you have nothing to write about?

Well, you could write about the weather. Slightly cloudy, with a cool western breeze and a slight chill coming up as evening falls. Blah, blah.

You could write about your physical and mental state. Ouch, my head hurts. Oh dear, what a strange day. Bitch, bitch, moan, moan.

You could write about something random. Gosh, isn’t Avenue Q just an amazing musical? So funny, so daring, so damnably catchy! It’s really something that you can listen to over and over, and seeing it in the theater is even more incredible. Gush, gush, gush.

You could write about politics. GOD, Sarah Palin is stupid. I mean, she really thinks she’s able to be the vice president of a whole country? She thinks that women shouldn’t have a choice about abortions, and yet states that her daughter made the CHOICE to keep her baby! Rant, rant, rave, rave.

You can write about anything. Just as long as you still write.