Bleck.
I am so not in the place I want to be writing this paper.
I'm all over the board. I woke up normal timed today, but from lots of wonky dreams. Weird stuff, but not detrimental. Like Bromhir working into this austere, Christmas decorated hotel. And Rhett Butler doing things I had never consider him to do. And so on and so on. It was just baffling weird, not bad weird. I got up and worked a little on my outline and the beginning of my quotes collections from the papers.
I decided to run off and play with Carrie. A Wal-Mart trip where we got things she's needed for a while. A World Market trip where she got nifty Fandom and Christmas things. I ended up picking up a German Reber Advent Calendar (which seems impossible to point out online. Umm, here, here and here). It wasn't as expensive as shown there, but it's an adult advent calendar with top of the line Reber's German chocolate's of a different kind behind each little door.
There was lunch at Tong's Thai. Then I dropped her off at home and caught the Blessed Sacrament Hand Bell Concert. That was truly beautiful, even if it did take me the first song or two before I adjusted to the fact I picked a seat far too close to the bells. It was just so clear and beautiful. I love bells. The ways they ring and ripple through the air, waiting until the sound has passed. Hearing a concert of Christmas music with just bells was entirely worth the effort to schedule things around again.
But now I am prodding the paper again. I've started it at least and there are many quotes to be used in the middle. I've only written a little over the second page though. Which is only an intro to transcendentalism, the poet, the poetry, then the differences of Frost and Emerson's times. *face palm* I'm so not here and I'm dragging myself hook and nail through each part. The next two pages will be a long diatribe on how their lives were the same, and this is the undercurrent which will lead up eventually in page....hrm....five or seven or something. To me breaking into....
You know I'm not even all that interested to talk about it. *face palm*
Bleck. I'm going to go write a little more. And then maybe eat another bite of my advent piece for the day. It was almost the size of my palm. Sigh. Frost. Right. Writing about Frost and Emerson and farming now. Allowed to take break once I've finished the end of page six, when I've hit the halfway mark or four. This might take forever.
I'm all over the board. I woke up normal timed today, but from lots of wonky dreams. Weird stuff, but not detrimental. Like Bromhir working into this austere, Christmas decorated hotel. And Rhett Butler doing things I had never consider him to do. And so on and so on. It was just baffling weird, not bad weird. I got up and worked a little on my outline and the beginning of my quotes collections from the papers.
I decided to run off and play with Carrie. A Wal-Mart trip where we got things she's needed for a while. A World Market trip where she got nifty Fandom and Christmas things. I ended up picking up a German Reber Advent Calendar (which seems impossible to point out online. Umm, here, here and here). It wasn't as expensive as shown there, but it's an adult advent calendar with top of the line Reber's German chocolate's of a different kind behind each little door.
There was lunch at Tong's Thai. Then I dropped her off at home and caught the Blessed Sacrament Hand Bell Concert. That was truly beautiful, even if it did take me the first song or two before I adjusted to the fact I picked a seat far too close to the bells. It was just so clear and beautiful. I love bells. The ways they ring and ripple through the air, waiting until the sound has passed. Hearing a concert of Christmas music with just bells was entirely worth the effort to schedule things around again.
But now I am prodding the paper again. I've started it at least and there are many quotes to be used in the middle. I've only written a little over the second page though. Which is only an intro to transcendentalism, the poet, the poetry, then the differences of Frost and Emerson's times. *face palm* I'm so not here and I'm dragging myself hook and nail through each part. The next two pages will be a long diatribe on how their lives were the same, and this is the undercurrent which will lead up eventually in page....hrm....five or seven or something. To me breaking into....
You know I'm not even all that interested to talk about it. *face palm*
Bleck. I'm going to go write a little more. And then maybe eat another bite of my advent piece for the day. It was almost the size of my palm. Sigh. Frost. Right. Writing about Frost and Emerson and farming now. Allowed to take break once I've finished the end of page six, when I've hit the halfway mark or four. This might take forever.