to quote the great robert frost:
"Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice."
i recited this poem in a poetry bee back in middle school. i came across it recently, and as i read the poem again i could hear the voice of myself, when i was a 14 year old boy, reciting the poem with the inflections i used back in 1997. how bizarre.
i equate this phenomenon with the one that occurs when i go back to read journal posts from high school, freshman year in college, etc. its interesting to experience the wide array of emotions that come from reading my own history. sometimes i shudder in shame, for the stupid dumb things that i wrote about as a young and stupid kid. i experience relief, from the lessons i was fortunate to learn beyond my time that have safeguarded me on this path. i sometimes cry, to read the strife i have experienced at the hands of myself or others, and then i feel pride... for making it over those hurdles and standing where i do now. how would i know who i was before if i dont keep record? i am blessed with this journal, and blessed with the desire to write.
funny... right now i feel regret, for not filling every day with an entry at least. who is to say that if i dont write about it... it must have not happened. but will i remember everything? do i want to remember everything? something for me to ponder i guess...
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice."
i recited this poem in a poetry bee back in middle school. i came across it recently, and as i read the poem again i could hear the voice of myself, when i was a 14 year old boy, reciting the poem with the inflections i used back in 1997. how bizarre.
i equate this phenomenon with the one that occurs when i go back to read journal posts from high school, freshman year in college, etc. its interesting to experience the wide array of emotions that come from reading my own history. sometimes i shudder in shame, for the stupid dumb things that i wrote about as a young and stupid kid. i experience relief, from the lessons i was fortunate to learn beyond my time that have safeguarded me on this path. i sometimes cry, to read the strife i have experienced at the hands of myself or others, and then i feel pride... for making it over those hurdles and standing where i do now. how would i know who i was before if i dont keep record? i am blessed with this journal, and blessed with the desire to write.
funny... right now i feel regret, for not filling every day with an entry at least. who is to say that if i dont write about it... it must have not happened. but will i remember everything? do i want to remember everything? something for me to ponder i guess...