Prayer

My own heart let me more have pity on; let

Me live to my sad self hereafter kind,

Charitable; not live this tormented mind

With this tormented mind tormenting yet.

I cast for comfort I can no more get

By groping round my comfortless, than blind

Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find...

- from Gerard Manley Hopkins'
"My own heart let me more have pity on"

Right now, I am...

1. sleepy and know that I ought to sleep; instead I am blog-hopping and having a lot of fun reading about other people's lives.

2. wondering how other bloggers manage to find something to write about day after day. I, on the other hand, have these dry spells wherein I simply can't, for the life of me, type a single sentence, let alone one whole entry!

3. still thinking about my key take-away from the Emotional Intelligence training class I attended this morning: that I am, in no way, emotionally intelligent.

4. listening absently to Jay Leno's blabber--the TV's volume is too low for me to really make out what he's saying.

5. seeing blue spots on the screen--I must've stared too long at the blue wall.

6. reminding myself to remind Jackie and Kim to study for their upcoming exams. I know Jackie will complain that studying takes too much out of her "fun" time. She'd cooperate more if you ask her to study Anne of Green Gables, though. Sigh. You should see her stare, horrified, at a page of math problems. She is simply too much like me.

7. counting my blessings.

8. bracing myself for a storm which I know is coming very soon. Time to test my mettle, once more.

9. trying to make out what Jay Leno is saying. I wish I didn't feel too lazy to reach for the remote control and turn up the volume.

10. ending this entry.

Moonbeam (by Louise Gluck)

The mist rose with a little sound. Like a thud.
Which was the heart beating. And the sun rose, briefly diluted.
And after what seemed years, it sank again
and twilight washed over the shore and deepened there.
And from out of nowhere lovers came,
people who still had bodies and hearts. Who still had
arms, legs, mouths, although by day they might be
housewives and businessmen.

The same night also produced people like ourselves.
You are like me, whether or not you admit it.
Unsatisfied, meticulous. And your hunger is not for experience
but for understanding, as though it could be had in the abstract.

Then it's daylight again and the world goes back to normal.
The lovers smooth their hair; the moon resumes its hollow existence.
And the beach belongs again to mysterious birds
soon to appear on postage stamps.

But what of our memories, the memories of those who depend on images?
Do they count for nothing?

The mist rose, taking back proof of love.
Without which we have only the mirror, you and I.

(from The Seven Ages)

Pensive mode, once more

The doldrums are here.

Time to listen to Carrie Underwood's

"Lessons Learned" and Corinne Bailey

Rae's "Put Your Records On."

Hope it does the trick.

Sigh.
Sigh.
Sigh.

Rain, Rain, Go Away...

It's a cold, gray, rainy day.

It's been raining since yesterday. Last night, I swear, the wind was howling like crazy and the rain fell in torrents. It was like a night straight from Wuthering Heights. The inhospitable weather must've compounded Heathcliff's madness.

Weather like this also brings to mind the ending of Charlotte Bronte's Villette--an hour after finishing the book and I was still crying over poor Lucy Snowe's tragic, ironic fate.

Oh, well.

The rain does bring dismal, absurd thoughts.

What more, my legs and thighs are positively groaning in pain. I have bruises on my knees, as well. Last Saturday was probably the most rigorous pep squad practice we've had, since we started.

Anyway, just to comfort myself, my spoonful of sugar will be: burying myself underneath a warm blanket and watching Jay Leno's The Tonight Show until I fall asleep.

Am craving for a cup of steaming, hot coffee, but that might ward off the sleep I have to chase everyday. And am definitely not in the mood to go chasing (anyone or anything) today.