Waking up's the hardest part...that's why so few people do it.
I just read something Lauren posted about the song "No One Mourns the Wicked" and I can't get the song out of my head, except the part I hear is at the end when all the Ozians are chanting "No one mourns the wicked" as Glinda sings "Good news!" And it feels like it should be significant -- okay, let's be honest, it is significant, for obvious reasons, but at the moment I feel like it should mean something more than the obvious. It felt for a moment that there was about to be a meaningful connection forged between my life and that song...nope. I hate when that happens.
And another line: "Woe to those who spurn what goodnesses they are shown." For some reason that's in my head, too. And I keep thinking about the idea of spurning goodness, and I think that no one would do that, but it depends on what you consider to be goodness. Sometimes I feel like that -- like I'm spurning what I have because there's an image of a future even greater that's stuck in my head like a photograph, and I desperately need for the photo to come true. Because if it doesn't, my life will be a waste. That's not true. But it felt true when I typed it.
And a thought: maybe "the wicked die alone" because everyone else is too afraid to join them? That sounds like it has the potential for meaning...just not at 6:13 AM.
I am so in the habit of reading and writing volumes that it's hard for me to get through a day without writing, but I like that about me. It's one of the things that I guess you could call a personality trait. Thinking about it, I don't know how to describe myself. We had t odo a poem for Spanish about ourselves, and I kept coming back to the same traits. I read, I write, I like school, I want to make a difference; I'm smart, hard-working, driven, determined, passionate; I like musicals and London and all sorts of random, unimportant things -- I guess it's odd to think that these all come together to form my character. I know I'm more than the words I use to describe myself, but the image in my mind of a body made of words comes back, except its my own body, and I want to see the words that make up my soul, but they're obscured so that I can't.
I was thinking about this last night, and I realized I need to read more books. They're what keep me sane, after all.
And I should update my list of books I've read so far this year:
1. Beauty by Robin McKinley
2. The Coelura by Anne McCaffrey
3. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
4. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
5. An Assembly Such As This by Pamela Aidan
6. Duty and Desire by Pamela Aidan
7. These Three Remain by Pamela Aidan
8. A Wizard Alone by Diane Duane
9. Hamlet by William Shakespeare
10. Cameo Diner by Matt Miller
11. A Wizard Abroad by Diane Duane
12. Talking in the Dark by Billy Merrill
13. A Streetcar Named Desire by Tenessee Williams
14. A Thousand Words for Stranger by Julie E. Czerneda
15. Blood Wedding by Frederico Garcia Lorca
16. Man and Superman by George Bernard Shaw
It's so weird that that list is so short. It's also frustrating. I'm in the middle of several books right now (as usual): Science Fiction: A Historical Anthology, Ties of Power, Magic for Beginners, and other miscellany. But I think it's high time I finished one of those and moved on. It's because for the last few days I've been watching X-Files in my spare time rather than reading (or writing). I think the TV doesn't like me...it certainly isn't doing me much good. I should swear off X-Files for a while, or at least limit myself to an episode a week.
And I should probably get ready to go to school now...great. Another day. Oh, and the TOK project is definitely not done yet. It'll potentially be completed during snack, right before TOK, because I don't know when we have it so I don't know how much I need to stress. We're the second class, I think? Pretty sure we're the only ones going today.
And another line: "Woe to those who spurn what goodnesses they are shown." For some reason that's in my head, too. And I keep thinking about the idea of spurning goodness, and I think that no one would do that, but it depends on what you consider to be goodness. Sometimes I feel like that -- like I'm spurning what I have because there's an image of a future even greater that's stuck in my head like a photograph, and I desperately need for the photo to come true. Because if it doesn't, my life will be a waste. That's not true. But it felt true when I typed it.
And a thought: maybe "the wicked die alone" because everyone else is too afraid to join them? That sounds like it has the potential for meaning...just not at 6:13 AM.
I am so in the habit of reading and writing volumes that it's hard for me to get through a day without writing, but I like that about me. It's one of the things that I guess you could call a personality trait. Thinking about it, I don't know how to describe myself. We had t odo a poem for Spanish about ourselves, and I kept coming back to the same traits. I read, I write, I like school, I want to make a difference; I'm smart, hard-working, driven, determined, passionate; I like musicals and London and all sorts of random, unimportant things -- I guess it's odd to think that these all come together to form my character. I know I'm more than the words I use to describe myself, but the image in my mind of a body made of words comes back, except its my own body, and I want to see the words that make up my soul, but they're obscured so that I can't.
I was thinking about this last night, and I realized I need to read more books. They're what keep me sane, after all.
And I should update my list of books I've read so far this year:
1. Beauty by Robin McKinley
2. The Coelura by Anne McCaffrey
3. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
4. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
5. An Assembly Such As This by Pamela Aidan
6. Duty and Desire by Pamela Aidan
7. These Three Remain by Pamela Aidan
8. A Wizard Alone by Diane Duane
9. Hamlet by William Shakespeare
10. Cameo Diner by Matt Miller
11. A Wizard Abroad by Diane Duane
12. Talking in the Dark by Billy Merrill
13. A Streetcar Named Desire by Tenessee Williams
14. A Thousand Words for Stranger by Julie E. Czerneda
15. Blood Wedding by Frederico Garcia Lorca
16. Man and Superman by George Bernard Shaw
It's so weird that that list is so short. It's also frustrating. I'm in the middle of several books right now (as usual): Science Fiction: A Historical Anthology, Ties of Power, Magic for Beginners, and other miscellany. But I think it's high time I finished one of those and moved on. It's because for the last few days I've been watching X-Files in my spare time rather than reading (or writing). I think the TV doesn't like me...it certainly isn't doing me much good. I should swear off X-Files for a while, or at least limit myself to an episode a week.
And I should probably get ready to go to school now...great. Another day. Oh, and the TOK project is definitely not done yet. It'll potentially be completed during snack, right before TOK, because I don't know when we have it so I don't know how much I need to stress. We're the second class, I think? Pretty sure we're the only ones going today.