Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Tim's midwinter present came in the mail on Monday, was waiting for us when I arrived back at my apartment yesterday, and was a great success. 216 spherical magnets called Buckyballs [not the same as the fullerene], which are solely for playing with. We sat on the floor for an hour, looking for stable configurations. Pentagons and cubes were very stable, long strands the most stable. [Buckyballs have two poles, just like a bar magnet.]
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
I am convinced there is nothing more horrifying and disillusioning than trying to decide on the area of study and expertise to occupy the rest of your professional life. Does anyone love any one subject well enough to devote most of their time and interest to studying it in minute detail, and putting it into mundane practice?
And then there is the nasty question of money.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Will there really be a "Morning"?
Is there such a thing as "Day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?
Has it feet like Water lilies?
Has it feathers like a Bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?
O some Scholar! O some Sailor!
O some Wise Man from the skies!
Please to tell a little Pilgrim
Where the place called "Morning" lies!
- Emily Dickinson
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Nothing has made the act of writing seem so lethargic and difficult as my first semester of university English. I am, as I type, contemplating a faculty switch in order to complete my degree in Evolutionary Biology rather than literature. The problem is not with how I am being taught to write, but with what I am being taught about how to read.
My professor says that any interpretation of a work that can be convincingly argued for is equal to the interpretation the author intended when writing the work; the interpretation he geared all of his expertise and device and consideration toward producing for his reader. Dr. Olchowy is extremely fond of reminding her class of the demotions authors have received at the hands of the academy over the last thirty years. As a person who places priority on research-informed explanation and as a poet, I am frustrated and insulted.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Tim and I have been playing a game called 'Assign a number' on the bus, in the street, and in the hallways at school. When someone especially pretty or ugly passes by, we proclaim our ratings. On Saturday the toothless street woman was a double zero, the girl with skin like a peach and the sweetest looking decolletage was a ten.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
"picture a person who one day in a fit of idleness decides to make a pomander like the one that granny used to have around the house in old New England and so he takes an orange and sticks a lot of cloves in it and then he looks at it and realizes that he's killed the orange, his favorite which came from the Malay Archipelago and was even loved in Ancient China, and he quickly pulls out all the cloves, but its too late! Orange is lying bleeding in my hand!"
- Frank O'Hara