The post V Day muse

Odd, innit, to blog again after 3 hours.

I am, after all, still stuck on my damn global warming essay. I thought I could write about the causes, but the Wiki articles were so - so - technical. Who the hell knows what are cybernetics? =.=" Righto - probably do the effects. I'll give you the whole wham-bang she-bangs stuff - you know - polar ice caps, walruses losing their bukkits, rising sea levels, Al Gore...yadda yadda yadda. (I should have watched The Inconvenient Truth - oh meh, it's 12 a.m. and I don't think I can finish this by tomorrow.)

Right. The Muse. It's inevitable; it's unavoidable; correct, correct, correct; you have everything to fear and nothing to prevent you from leaving. :)

Neighbours a few roads away just set off fireworks, lasted about 10 minutes. Hokkien New Year mah - parents praying and all while I spend the precious minutes of my life doing stupidly unproductive things like BLOGGING. And I realised that on this date last year - the Lunar calendar - I had just returned from the Muse concert. Amazing, innit, it's been a year already. And I don't think I'll be going to any concerts for a loooooooong time. (There go my Saturdays =/)

And I was thinking about some other things...random things, obviously...thingies.

Q: Do you need an excuse to talk to a friend?

A: I don't know about you, but I do feel that I need an excuse before I start talking...to some people. Er. I won't say who - but it's just odd. Why do you need an excuse in the first place, if you're already friends with the other person? What's stopping you from just starting a random convo with something like "OMG EDWARD NORTON IS SO HAWT!" Is it awkwardness? Or because you both didn't actually have as many common interests as you thought at first? Or simply put - you've both drifted apart?

I'm going with the last one, darling. It happens too often these days.

Q: Do shy people find it easier to blog?

A: Do they? What do you think ah?

Found this random book in the library today, an anthology of stories by Garrison Keillor, We Are Still Married. (Considering the day, it was pretty appropriate, no?) One story, Letters, described how shy people found it easier to carry out "conversations" in letters, saying things they were unable to say in person - mundane things, silly things, random things, thoughtful thingies. Does this apply to blogs?

Read Virginia Woolf's Lappin and Lapinova today. Whimsical, silly, childish on the surface. But how true the end...

And because I'm still avoiding the one thing I should be doing, I'm going to post another Plath poem. Ah hah!

Love Letter by Sylvia Plath

Not easy to state the change you made.
If I'm alive now, then I was dead,
Though, like a stone, unbothered by it,
Staying put according to habit.
You didn't just tow me an inch, no-
Nor leave me to set my small bald eye
Skyward again, without hope, of course,
Of apprehending blueness, or stars.

That wasn't it. I slept, say: a snake
Masked among black rocks as a black rock
In the white hiatus of winter-
Like my neighbors, taking no pleasure
In the million perfectly-chiseled
Cheeks alighting each moment to melt
My cheeks of basalt. They turned to tears,
Angels weeping over dull natures,
But didn't convince me. Those tears froze.
Each dead head had a visor of ice.

And I slept on like a bent finger.
The first thing I was was sheer air
And the locked drops rising in dew
Limpid as spirits. Many stones lay
Dense and expressionless round about.
I didn't know what to make of it.
I shone, mice-scaled, and unfolded
To pour myself out like a fluid
Among bird feet and the stems of plants.
I wasn't fooled. I knew you at once.

Tree and stone glittered, without shadows.
My finger-length grew lucent as glass.
I started to bud like a March twig:
An arm and a leg, and arm, a leg.
From stone to cloud, so I ascended.
Now I resemble a sort of god
Floating through the air in my soul-shift
Pure as a pane of ice. It's a gift.

Haih. It's one day late.

Argh. Help.