coochie-maker
ok. i'm trying to read all of this bullshit for two essays i have due tomorrow and all i can conclude from emerson's "the poet" and "nature" is that emerson is a self-righteous tool too proud of his ejaculations to notice any discrepancy in his high-falutin' logic. and he's racist. and sexist.
i am so pissed at life right now.
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:
How does my understanding of Emerson's theories on Nature and Poetry aid my struggle in the REAL WORLD? Emerson, through all his philosophizing about poetry (see also: the most useless thing anyone could ever do), isn't necessarily convinced that matter exists. If we are to follow his line of thinking and conclude that matter may not, indeed, exist, then there is no point in learning how to do anything useful. No wonder he became a poet.
Cordially,
Nancy
i'm sorry poetry, it's not really you i'm mad at. that came out all wrong. forgive me?
EDIT:
I've spent the last month with my new BFF (best friend forever) Jessy. She is real as shit. She is the creme to my menthe. She is the soy to my milk. She is the tru to my dat, the da' to my bomb, the killer to my whale. I always thought I was such a weirdo, and then I found someone just as weird as me. She's like my third sister (and will get along so so so well with my two biological sisters whom i very much love.) Jessy and I had a crazy dance party i my room, just the two of us, and we meant it. She reads Dave Eggars and loves bluegrass music and Aretha Franklin and Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion. She loves puns and bad jokes and the Office. She's into politics and being all racially aware and shit but somehow doesn't take herself too seriously. Jessy loves good poetry and hugs and chocolate. She and I laid in bed together watching UHF, eating chocolate, cuddling and talking about how stupid boys are. We went to crazy dance parties two nights in a row. Jessy is my wo-wing-man. She has a boxer named Chopper that wears a red bandana. She takes care of me when I'm sad. She replaced Drew on my speed dial. She modifies her own clothes, only shops at the thrift store (not to be cool, but because it's cheap and you find neat shit), and is even craftier than me! She cares about the effects of capitalism on urban environments, the environment at large, imperialism, and everything important. Jessy is a good dresser and tells me I'm beautiful. She and I share good music and advice about boys and our crazy families. She came to family dinner and partook in a conversation with all of my middle-aged aunts and uncles about the definition of camel toe and whether or not it is a medical condition. (We decided that camel toe itself is not a medical condition, but can be a precursor to one.) She came to my house after I got jumped (oh yeah, I got held up at gunpoint) and gave me a big hug and let me cry on her shoulder. Jessy won't let me walk home by myself since then, she makes me sleep at her house or gives me a ride. I wrestle with and spoon her dog, with whom I am in love. We (Jessy and I) share clothes! We wear the same size shoe! She dresses really cute and tells me I have style. She is super smart and funny and a great friend.
It's like I started reading a book in my living room at noon and didn't realize, at 6pm, how strained my eyes were in the dimness until she turned on the light and said "What are you doing?" I'd been so stagnant in my relationship with Drew and all the subsequent decisions that came with that (my active decisions, I accept). I'd bee standing so still I didn't realize I was sinking. I feel more myself than I have in about a decade.
And it's not just Jessy. A big part of it was finding Jessy, yes. But a lot of it, I think, is just being single. For the first time in literally years I am making decisions based on what I want to do and no one else. My priorities have gotten fucked over the last six months specifically, and, as Nina Simone would say, it's "nobodies fault but mine." (one of my top 3 favorite songs to sing, by the by)
Moreover, I have new friends who are interested in talking about global politics, local politics, radical politics, but aren't competitive about it. That is, who are more interested in coming to Truths [with a capital T] through exploring truths [with a lower case t] than starting with the Truth and evangelically bringing that word to anyone who will let themselves be convinced.
RAPP (the Racial Awareness Pilot Project) has done a lot for me. I thought I was pretty racially aware already, which is true, but I now understand a lot about my own baggage and programed messages. The retreat really opened up my mind and helped me to realize that I wasn't engaged in building the life I want for myself. I hadn't sincerely laughed in months. That weekend, I laughed until I almost peed, and I cried for other people, not just for myself. That's also where I met Jessy and her brother, my sub-BFF, Dan.
At our last RAPP meeting, we were given scraps of paper, one for each person in our group. We were to write messages to each other them and then drop them in pre-labeled brown paper lunch bags. It was a lot like writing in a yearbook. You know "Remember that time we took a nature walk and that girl twisted her ankle? Let's do that again but without the ankle and then we can be friends for real." I took mine out and there were so many that said "I see you as a role model." or "How are you so confident?" and I just couldn't believe it. I don't mean to sound cocky, that's not why I'm writing this. I'm just writing to say thank you, I guess for everyone who has been honest enough to sincerely share their lives with me, and humble enough to understand that wisdom always has more to learn. I think everyone is a role model. We learn from each other, whether we like it or not. I gained my recent self-realization and subsequent confidence and happiness from the folks I met at RAPP. I'm giving them back what they gave me.
i am so pissed at life right now.
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:
How does my understanding of Emerson's theories on Nature and Poetry aid my struggle in the REAL WORLD? Emerson, through all his philosophizing about poetry (see also: the most useless thing anyone could ever do), isn't necessarily convinced that matter exists. If we are to follow his line of thinking and conclude that matter may not, indeed, exist, then there is no point in learning how to do anything useful. No wonder he became a poet.
Cordially,
Nancy
i'm sorry poetry, it's not really you i'm mad at. that came out all wrong. forgive me?
EDIT:
I've spent the last month with my new BFF (best friend forever) Jessy. She is real as shit. She is the creme to my menthe. She is the soy to my milk. She is the tru to my dat, the da' to my bomb, the killer to my whale. I always thought I was such a weirdo, and then I found someone just as weird as me. She's like my third sister (and will get along so so so well with my two biological sisters whom i very much love.) Jessy and I had a crazy dance party i my room, just the two of us, and we meant it. She reads Dave Eggars and loves bluegrass music and Aretha Franklin and Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion. She loves puns and bad jokes and the Office. She's into politics and being all racially aware and shit but somehow doesn't take herself too seriously. Jessy loves good poetry and hugs and chocolate. She and I laid in bed together watching UHF, eating chocolate, cuddling and talking about how stupid boys are. We went to crazy dance parties two nights in a row. Jessy is my wo-wing-man. She has a boxer named Chopper that wears a red bandana. She takes care of me when I'm sad. She replaced Drew on my speed dial. She modifies her own clothes, only shops at the thrift store (not to be cool, but because it's cheap and you find neat shit), and is even craftier than me! She cares about the effects of capitalism on urban environments, the environment at large, imperialism, and everything important. Jessy is a good dresser and tells me I'm beautiful. She and I share good music and advice about boys and our crazy families. She came to family dinner and partook in a conversation with all of my middle-aged aunts and uncles about the definition of camel toe and whether or not it is a medical condition. (We decided that camel toe itself is not a medical condition, but can be a precursor to one.) She came to my house after I got jumped (oh yeah, I got held up at gunpoint) and gave me a big hug and let me cry on her shoulder. Jessy won't let me walk home by myself since then, she makes me sleep at her house or gives me a ride. I wrestle with and spoon her dog, with whom I am in love. We (Jessy and I) share clothes! We wear the same size shoe! She dresses really cute and tells me I have style. She is super smart and funny and a great friend.
It's like I started reading a book in my living room at noon and didn't realize, at 6pm, how strained my eyes were in the dimness until she turned on the light and said "What are you doing?" I'd been so stagnant in my relationship with Drew and all the subsequent decisions that came with that (my active decisions, I accept). I'd bee standing so still I didn't realize I was sinking. I feel more myself than I have in about a decade.
And it's not just Jessy. A big part of it was finding Jessy, yes. But a lot of it, I think, is just being single. For the first time in literally years I am making decisions based on what I want to do and no one else. My priorities have gotten fucked over the last six months specifically, and, as Nina Simone would say, it's "nobodies fault but mine." (one of my top 3 favorite songs to sing, by the by)
Moreover, I have new friends who are interested in talking about global politics, local politics, radical politics, but aren't competitive about it. That is, who are more interested in coming to Truths [with a capital T] through exploring truths [with a lower case t] than starting with the Truth and evangelically bringing that word to anyone who will let themselves be convinced.
RAPP (the Racial Awareness Pilot Project) has done a lot for me. I thought I was pretty racially aware already, which is true, but I now understand a lot about my own baggage and programed messages. The retreat really opened up my mind and helped me to realize that I wasn't engaged in building the life I want for myself. I hadn't sincerely laughed in months. That weekend, I laughed until I almost peed, and I cried for other people, not just for myself. That's also where I met Jessy and her brother, my sub-BFF, Dan.
At our last RAPP meeting, we were given scraps of paper, one for each person in our group. We were to write messages to each other them and then drop them in pre-labeled brown paper lunch bags. It was a lot like writing in a yearbook. You know "Remember that time we took a nature walk and that girl twisted her ankle? Let's do that again but without the ankle and then we can be friends for real." I took mine out and there were so many that said "I see you as a role model." or "How are you so confident?" and I just couldn't believe it. I don't mean to sound cocky, that's not why I'm writing this. I'm just writing to say thank you, I guess for everyone who has been honest enough to sincerely share their lives with me, and humble enough to understand that wisdom always has more to learn. I think everyone is a role model. We learn from each other, whether we like it or not. I gained my recent self-realization and subsequent confidence and happiness from the folks I met at RAPP. I'm giving them back what they gave me.