I'm back.

*I'm back. Well I guess I was still here, posting, but I was frustrated. I think I can get used to this current blog layout. Still miss the other one, but this will do. :)

I wrote a lot of poetry today. :)

probably got two good lines out of seven poems, but that's good. The point is to be writing. Also I love this font. :) (didn't write seven poems today- I had some that needed to be typed. Maybe wrote four today? I didn't count exactly.)

Also, Lara and I went for a really good, long, spontaneous walk in the SUNSHINE! today. While we were walking past Hanna or Univ Hall or whatever one over there, a POSSUM (opossum?) scurried by. *shudder shudder* I do not like them. Especially not in daylight. (I guess actually I like them better in daylight so I can see them and run away... but not entirely natural I don't think...) But we had a good talk too. You know you're friends with someone when you can share your embarrassing, girl stories with them. :)

Tomorrow is Monday. Three classes, a lab report to write, and then lifegroup. :)

Neruda

I have an idea for you.

Read this poem,

and listen to this song

at the same time.

Caspian- Sycamore

Every Day You Play

Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.

You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.

The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I can contend only against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.

You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Cling to me as though you were frightened.
Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.

Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
and even your breasts smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans.

My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Pablo Neruda

A friend told me that Neruda wrote in green ink, because green means hope.

here's the deal

They changed blogspot. A lot.

So I think my lovely theme is gone.

bummers.

But it's the content that should make the blog, right?

and also there are some super fun fonts now.

So it'll be allll right.

So I screwed it up BAD.

I was trying to make the lion my background, but it obviously didn't work. So I ended up just clearing all previous settings and now I can't figure it out again. So now I'm frustrated, and I think I'll just leave it be for a few days.

Ok. It's under construction. I'll fix it later. Right now I want a nap. :)

for my bg friends.

you must be a special person

to chomp down on an onion

like it’s a piece of fruit.

to pull off every single color in your hair.

to be the most fashionable person I know and

not pressure me at all about it, not even by accident,

to soften my cynical heart every time you give me a hug,

to be as generous as you,

not just with things but also with time,

to be vulnerable and trust I won’t

betray your heart.

to share my enthusiasm for the way children play,

to never betray your mother’s home cooking.

to have so much

through so much pain

(don't know why this formatted funny...)