Oh bother.
My friend friend friend kirst has been writing in her blog recently and I encourage you all to read it- it's magnificent, just like her.
some flowers for your snowy gardens:
March 30, 2009
"Even a mosquito doesn't get a pat on the back until he's well into his work."
So, last Friday in Floral lab we had to make a corsage and a bout out of one rose and a leaf and what you see below is the result. :] This weekend was absoludicrously awesome and I'm glad I met some fun friends and got out of the house instead of bemoaning the nonnauvoo trip due to the snow. I have to say though, that this morning going 8 mph I couldn't turn and slid into a curb which scratched my bumper a bit and made my temper flare. I'm certain I used all my swears for the year today. Humanities always cheers me up though and I got some good laughter (much needed) from the class. We were studying the moral play Everyman- which I remember learning about my freshman year the lesson you scrape from it is that life isn't about what you have, its about what you've done with what you have. I'm sure my dad will be so glad that I am alive and didn't fly over the curb into a ravine this morning and die- leaving my scratched car behind.
Oh bother.
My friend friend friend kirst has been writing in her blog recently and I encourage you all to read it- it's magnificent, just like her.
some flowers for your snowy gardens:
Oh bother.
My friend friend friend kirst has been writing in her blog recently and I encourage you all to read it- it's magnificent, just like her.
some flowers for your snowy gardens:
March 24, 2009
Is it next week yet?
THIS week has been absoludicrously madnessable. This morning at three all of our smoke detectors went off- after we all got out of our beds and everyone watched me dissasemmble the alarm in my underwears and after all of our hearts went back down to a normal beat we laughed about it and joked about who it might have been. Megan who has been pulling all nighters and comes from a rough and tough utahr background was the culprit- turns out you shouldnt toke without a window open. Just kidding we actually have no idea why it went off. Three beautiful hours later I slept walked to class and jumped into the pool for water aerobixxxx. My teacher decided it was a good idea to salsa dance... in the pool and I cannot lie I felt like a tard. Except that it was awesome and hard to do- if anyone (shaun...) was EVER underneath the pool watching through those divers windows... I would run off the face of a cliff in my swimsuit out of sheer humiliation. I came home with a wet tumble head and fell asleep again until my boss called me at eleven twenty to ask if I was planning on coming to work today... so, on my way there I take the back roads because there aren't usually cops on them... AND today right before I ran a stop sign I saw a cop out of the corner of my eye and made a full five second stop...but it was too late; he caught me going probably forty-five down a twenty five and he began to follow me, but I slowed down a TON and ditched him on Main. phewe, never going to do THAT again. I had a flower delivery at the kennedy elementary school today and after I delivered it I was walking out of the office when I see this mini van pull up and a small boy probably about 6 or 7 climb morosely out of the back seat and sulk his way into school. I wanted to say "BE HAPPY, IT ONLY GETS HARDER!!!!" but I kept it to myself and laughed instead... which I'm sure he thought was me laughing about the fact that he had to go to school. This kid looked like he had done EVERYTHING he could to stay home, short of gluing himself to the back window of the mini van. Shortly after, I was climbing into my own sweet sweet purple ride to head back to work when another car pulled up and in it was another boy about 2 or 3 at the most and hahahaha he had his WHOLE BODY pressed up against the window and was looking at the school like it was disneyland. The irony of it stayed with me all day and I'm still laughing. Anyways, speakenining of the schooling- I have a test tomorrow morning and a quiz and sleep to do tonight.
Tough life huh? Well, I better appreciate it now because I'm sure that somewhere along my life someone stopped me and said "BE HAPPY, IT ONLY GETS HARDER!"
sweeet.
love always
ja
March 19, 2009
March 18, 2009
Hello Darkness, my old friend
Ive come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of
A neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one deared
Disturb the sound of silence.
Fools said i,you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you.
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon God they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the signs said, the words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls.
And whisperd in the sounds of silence.
Thank you JMH.man
my life will never be the same,
no seat belt will ever be comfortable
enough
again.
Good thing modesty is comfortable.
March 17, 2009
Souviens-toi mon enfant.
[ this is the first time I've ever done anything like this, so if it has horrible sounds in it I blame the computer. Even if it sounds like a human, its a mac- I promise... :/ a macqueline.]
I remember you. A french lullaby
Green, is the color for today. It represents life and newness. The clean slate of spring sprouts a sudden awareness of self. The wind woke me up this morning, it was clawing at my window, wind ow. When someone you know is hurting, or sad- there is a silent pain there that is as quiet and as pushing as the wind. It shakes everything that it touches. Can you truly be sorry for something you cannot understand? For something you hope you never have to know? It is unfathomable to me. It reminds me of my life, how miraculous it is that I am here. I am so grateful to have been accepted to come here. Often I feel like I don't belong, but my life is new, unique, and unlike any other that has ever been on the earth. The day I was born, a little girl named Summer was born too. Summer was early (she couldn't wait to come here, like me) and she was my mother's best friend's child. I grew up hearing stories about this person, she was so real to me. "Summer would have been the same age as you..." "Summer had the same eyes as you..." "Summer and you would have been good friends..." Summer had died at two years when a brain tumor, unexpectedly overtook her small body. At that time, I didn't know who she was, or who I was, or what the color green meant, but I know now, that I did have a concept of love, and belonging the moment I was held in my mothers life. I know that Summer didn't have the opportunity or the time in her existence to learn some of the things that I've had to, but I believe that I still knew her and that I will know her when I go on to the next adventure in life. I don't want to cheapen what I have to say with words, I am trying to get at something deeper here, simply; I know that she knows where she is from- and her family's love for her in spite of her absence in this life.
The french have a hymnal called souviens-toi mon enfant the first time I sang it I was sitting in my french classroom and the girl in front of me was very pregnant. It is sung to the melody from Dvorak's "New World Symphony." Here are two translations of the words.
I remember you (souviens-toi mon enfant)
Remember, my child : not long ago,
your divine parents held you in their arms.
Today you are here, marvelously present.
Your gaze still shines with the reflection of heaven.
Talk to me, my child, about that blessed place,
because for you the veil is still thin.
Remember, my child, the forests, the cities.
Can we down here imagine them?
And the night sky, is it rosy or gray?
Is the sun waiting for snow or rain?
Describe to me, my child, the color of the meadows
and the birdsongs of a forgotten world.
Remember, my child: at the dawn of time,
we were friends playing in the wind.
Then one day in joy we chose to accept
the Lord’s grand plan of life.
That night, my child, we promised through love,
and through faith, to be reunited.
I remember you, My little child Your parents divine. You have been in my arms before,
Which times were not that far away.
Today you are there
You’re just marvelous
You’re looking bright again,
In the reflection of the heavens.
Talk to me, my little child
Of all our blessings.
Because for you are the light,
That the veil let through.
I remember you, my little child. Of the woods, of the cities Are we able to imagine them here below? And the sky just tonight Is it red or gray?
Does the sun wait for it,
The snow or the rain?
I am happy/satisfied my little child,
The color of the wildflower fields
And the songs of the birds
But the earth is missing something.
I remember you, my little child: Since the dawn of time. We were always friends, We played in the wind.
Then one day, in all the joy,
We had to choose
To accept our Lord,
The great plan of life (salvation).
This night right here, my little child,
We have made a promise
By our love
By our faith
We will be reunited.
Souviens-toi, mon enfant
Souviens-toi, mon enfant: Tes parents divins
te serraient dans leurs bras, ce temps ne’st pas loin.
Aujourd’hui, tu es là, présent merveilleux,
ton regard brille encore du reflet des cieux.
Parle-moi, mon enfant, de ces lieux bénis
car pour toi est léger le voile d’oubli.
Souviens-toi, mon enfant des bois, des cités.
Pouvons-nous ici-bas les imaginer?
Et le ciel jusqu’au soir, est-il rose ou gris ?
Le soleil attend-il la neige ou la pluie?
Conte-moi, mon enfant, la couleur des prés
et le chant des oiseaux d’un monde oublié.
Souviens-toi, mon enfant : A l’aube des temps,
nous étions des amis jouant dans le vent.
Puis un jour, dans la joie nous avons choisi
d’accepter du Seigneur le grand plan de vie.
Ce soir-là, mon enfant, nous avons promis
par l’amour, par la foi, d’être réunis.
roughly translated the music you can find it here
and as it appears in the cantiques
I remember you. A french lullaby
Green, is the color for today. It represents life and newness. The clean slate of spring sprouts a sudden awareness of self. The wind woke me up this morning, it was clawing at my window, wind ow. When someone you know is hurting, or sad- there is a silent pain there that is as quiet and as pushing as the wind. It shakes everything that it touches. Can you truly be sorry for something you cannot understand? For something you hope you never have to know? It is unfathomable to me. It reminds me of my life, how miraculous it is that I am here. I am so grateful to have been accepted to come here. Often I feel like I don't belong, but my life is new, unique, and unlike any other that has ever been on the earth. The day I was born, a little girl named Summer was born too. Summer was early (she couldn't wait to come here, like me) and she was my mother's best friend's child. I grew up hearing stories about this person, she was so real to me. "Summer would have been the same age as you..." "Summer had the same eyes as you..." "Summer and you would have been good friends..." Summer had died at two years when a brain tumor, unexpectedly overtook her small body. At that time, I didn't know who she was, or who I was, or what the color green meant, but I know now, that I did have a concept of love, and belonging the moment I was held in my mothers life. I know that Summer didn't have the opportunity or the time in her existence to learn some of the things that I've had to, but I believe that I still knew her and that I will know her when I go on to the next adventure in life. I don't want to cheapen what I have to say with words, I am trying to get at something deeper here, simply; I know that she knows where she is from- and her family's love for her in spite of her absence in this life.
The french have a hymnal called souviens-toi mon enfant the first time I sang it I was sitting in my french classroom and the girl in front of me was very pregnant. It is sung to the melody from Dvorak's "New World Symphony." Here are two translations of the words.
I remember you (souviens-toi mon enfant)
Remember, my child : not long ago,
your divine parents held you in their arms.
Today you are here, marvelously present.
Your gaze still shines with the reflection of heaven.
Talk to me, my child, about that blessed place,
because for you the veil is still thin.
Remember, my child, the forests, the cities.
Can we down here imagine them?
And the night sky, is it rosy or gray?
Is the sun waiting for snow or rain?
Describe to me, my child, the color of the meadows
and the birdsongs of a forgotten world.
Remember, my child: at the dawn of time,
we were friends playing in the wind.
Then one day in joy we chose to accept
the Lord’s grand plan of life.
That night, my child, we promised through love,
and through faith, to be reunited.
I remember you, My little child Your parents divine. You have been in my arms before,
Which times were not that far away.
Today you are there
You’re just marvelous
You’re looking bright again,
In the reflection of the heavens.
Talk to me, my little child
Of all our blessings.
Because for you are the light,
That the veil let through.
I remember you, my little child. Of the woods, of the cities Are we able to imagine them here below? And the sky just tonight Is it red or gray?
Does the sun wait for it,
The snow or the rain?
I am happy/satisfied my little child,
The color of the wildflower fields
And the songs of the birds
But the earth is missing something.
I remember you, my little child: Since the dawn of time. We were always friends, We played in the wind.
Then one day, in all the joy,
We had to choose
To accept our Lord,
The great plan of life (salvation).
This night right here, my little child,
We have made a promise
By our love
By our faith
We will be reunited.
Souviens-toi, mon enfant
Souviens-toi, mon enfant: Tes parents divins
te serraient dans leurs bras, ce temps ne’st pas loin.
Aujourd’hui, tu es là, présent merveilleux,
ton regard brille encore du reflet des cieux.
Parle-moi, mon enfant, de ces lieux bénis
car pour toi est léger le voile d’oubli.
Souviens-toi, mon enfant des bois, des cités.
Pouvons-nous ici-bas les imaginer?
Et le ciel jusqu’au soir, est-il rose ou gris ?
Le soleil attend-il la neige ou la pluie?
Conte-moi, mon enfant, la couleur des prés
et le chant des oiseaux d’un monde oublié.
Souviens-toi, mon enfant : A l’aube des temps,
nous étions des amis jouant dans le vent.
Puis un jour, dans la joie nous avons choisi
d’accepter du Seigneur le grand plan de vie.
Ce soir-là, mon enfant, nous avons promis
par l’amour, par la foi, d’être réunis.
roughly translated the music you can find it here
and as it appears in the cantiques
March 16, 2009
March 10, 2009
gypsy itch
This is the Prince of Wales Hotel, In alberta Canada- on the border of Montana.
I have hitherto never been so completely captivated by such breathtaking beauty in a single photograph of a place other than Lukla at the base of Everest. Apparently The United States has hidden treasures that I know nothing about- and Canada eh too. I can't wait to travel with people I love. Adventure remains in the unexplored world for me.
a short
there was a place
where we would go
and talk face to face
about things
you know
a sight
in green
where minds could grow
and hearts were found
and seeds were sown.
where we would go
and talk face to face
about things
you know
a sight
in green
where minds could grow
and hearts were found
and seeds were sown.
March 8, 2009
emerson, and s.s. peanut.
"Poet"
To clothe the fiery thought
In simple words succeeds,
For still the craft of genius is
To mask a king in weeds.
To clothe the fiery thought
In simple words succeeds,
For still the craft of genius is
To mask a king in weeds.
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