Actual cannibal Shia Laboeuf!
Well, that's it. I'm just not spending any more time on this effing teaching philosophy. It's funny--I'm at a point in the semester where I've actually done just about everything, but now the little stuff that's left is taking me forever to do because I just have no motivation. Whatever. Tomorrow is movie night! I'm spending tomorrow grading my students' finals, and then my work will be just about done, and I will bask in the doneness and eat popcorn and watch Jane Austen adaptations with my friends from the German department. It will be awesome.
Last day of National Poetry month! It's been fun, getting myself to do this again.
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pool singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
I love these end-of-the-world poems. I've gotten pretty into Sara Teasdale this past year. I've been plotting out this big X-Men fan fiction around Emma Frost in which she and Professor X have a book club and read Sara Teasdale. I know, that's up there on the list of silliest things I've ever said, and yet. And yet! Maybe someday I will write it.
Last day of National Poetry month! It's been fun, getting myself to do this again.
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pool singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
I love these end-of-the-world poems. I've gotten pretty into Sara Teasdale this past year. I've been plotting out this big X-Men fan fiction around Emma Frost in which she and Professor X have a book club and read Sara Teasdale. I know, that's up there on the list of silliest things I've ever said, and yet. And yet! Maybe someday I will write it.