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Monday, January 30, 2012

In Which I Speak Randomly


Well, it's been about a month I suppose...a month of growing this baby and stretching my clothes and trying not to sniff because even if things don't smell bad, I just have the feeling that I'm not meant to be smelling them at such a high intensity. I'd really rather some things just not have a smell at all.

Newer developments might include (for the worse) crying fits which spring from nowhere, constant fatigue, and (for the better) less stomach queasiness, which is cancelling out the tiredness enough that I actually have a few clear surfaces around here. It's quite uplifting, actually.

But apparently last Friday, an arch enemy found out about my newfound feelings of happiness and worth and decided that it simply could not be allowed. Hence, the evilness which is called Stomach Virus invaded my abode and being, and promptly tried its best to...well, I'd say kill me, but that's rather dramatic. I suppose it only wanted to yank my stomach up my throat.

Now I'm recovering, and over the weekend I have amassed a few opinions on random subjects which I have decided to share with you.


The first: “Do not free a camel of the burden of his hump; you may be freeing him from being a camel.”
I thought this G. K. Chesterton quote would look perfect on a maternity shirt, and said so on Facebook via status update. My sister-in-law thinks it would be degrading, and perhaps that is the popular opinion—seeing that nobody replied to my status. I think it's a great anti-feminist metaphor, but hey. I've been wrong before.

The second: “Wives and Daughters” is such a beautiful story. I watched the movie again while convalescing on the couch, and it rather frustrates me how most of the comments I read are women swooning for Roger, when while Roger is indeed a stellar character, there are so many other people with traits to highlight. When I put myself in Molly's shoes, my admiration for her obedience towards her father even in living life with such an awful stepmother puts me in awe. The love of Squire and Mrs. Hamley in their old age is such a beautiful thing, and even the second Mrs. Gibson's character is astounding in that no matter how hard she “tries” to please a person, it always leads back to her own comfort or her social standing. Elizabeth Gaskell has earned applause for more than a handsome hero.

And the third: No matter how many times I try to get over it, Sam Tsui irritates me more every time I watch him sing. He has a good voice, which is why I even make the effort. But it's like he's sure he's the hottest thing since buttered toast, and that just kills the mood for me.

Enjoy February!!!

Sunday, January 1, 2012

January: A Poem

       
           

      Again I reply to the triple winds
      running chromatic fifths of derision
      outside my window:
      Play louder.

      You will not succeed. I am
      bound more to my sentences
      the more you batter at me
      to follow you.
                           
       And the wind,
      as before, fingers perfectly
      its derisive music.

      William Carlos Williams