i’ve officially changed my major from literature to art. it’s going to be a challenge, i lack confidence in what i do and i hate change more than most anyhing. it makes me feel like a child to be taking my first art classes ever and not knowing anything. maybe at least that will teach me more humility.
February 10, 2009
My life strangly echoes this boys’. He is freakishly like myself. The only difference is that he is drugged up.
January 30, 2009
I like to look at the world through these eyes. They are much different than mine. They show me things I never saw before and introduce me to a miriad of wonders. They inspire me, they influence me.
January 12, 2009
i feel awkward sharing thoughts over the wide world that is the web, so why do i have a blog?… i read other’s blogs that share their musings of the day or some profound thoughts and i have decided i can’t do that. so i will share the same as i have, that which i find interesting, funny, beautiful . . . or just worth mentioning . . . or a thought i deem worthy such as this one i guess.
January 12, 2009
call me ponyboy
November 11, 2008
November 11, 2008
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II
Why are we weigh’d upon with heaviness, |
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| And utterly consumed with sharp distress, | |
| While all things else have rest from weariness? | |
| All things have rest: why should we toil alone, | 60 |
| We only toil, who are the first of things, | |
| And make perpetual moan, | |
| Still from one sorrow to another thrown; | |
| Nor ever fold our wings, | |
| And cease from wanderings, | 65 |
| Nor steep our brows in slumber’s holy balm; | |
| Nor harken what the inner spirit sings, | |
| “There is no joy but calm!”— | |
| Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things? |
|
IV
Hateful is the dark-blue sky, |
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| Vaulted o’er the dark-blue sea. | 85 |
| Death is the end of life; ah, why | |
| Should life all labor be? | |
| Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast, | |
| And in a little while our lips are dumb. | |
| Let us alone. What is it that will last? | 90 |
| All things are taken from us, and become | |
| Portions and parcels of the dreadful past. | |
| Let us alone. What pleasure can we have | |
| To war with evil? Is there any peace | |
| In ever climbing up the climbing wave? | 95 |
| All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave | |
| In silence—ripen, fall, and cease: | |
| Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease. |
November 10, 2008
don’t be upset you don’t know me better
i never expected you to understand
it doesn’t come easy for most people
just give it some time now
it’ll all come together eventually
