| Oh hell, I'll update. Facebook has taken over the known universe and stopped many from posting on xanga. I'm tired of logging on and having no reading material. I've found several new loves in the world of music. I have napster and based reccomendations from downloading Norah Jones I found Madeleine Peyroux and Diana Krall. Both of whom are fantastic. Madeleine Peyroux's music is older sounding, like from the '30's and '40's. Diana Krall does jazz and has wonderful lyrics. I would highly reccomend both. Now, what have I been up to? I'm sure you are so interested. I've just been schooling and working. I decided that I'm going to attempt to take on a writing minor starting next semester. I've decided that I want to live a la JK Rowling and teach while I write. I've also decided that I want to get my hair cut like Charlize Theron in her short days and then maybe dye strips of it purple. Woot! Also, Nick and I have passed our year mark of living together. This is slightly strange for me because never in my life did I imagine I would be living out of my parents for a year anywhere by the age of 19, much less with a man. Well, it seems like year. It seems shorter sometimes. And sometimes it seems longer. None of these is bad.It's simply, strange and wonderful. The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; -on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanch'd land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in. Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea. The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world. Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night. -Mathew Arnold |
