talking of Michaelangelo.
Friday, October 29, 2010
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Edward James's surrealism // 10:20 am
I have seen such beauty as one man has seldom seen;
therefore will I be grateful to die in this little room,
surrounded by the forests, the great green gloom
of trees my only gloom - and the sound, the sound of green.
Here amid the warmth of the rain, what might have been
is resolved into the tenderness of a tall doom
who says: 'You did your best, rest' - and after you the bloom
of what you loved and planted still will whisper what you mean.
And the ghosts of the birds I loved, will attend me each a friend;
like them shall I have
flown beyond the realm of words.
You, through the trees, shall hear them, long after the end
calling me beyond the river. For the cries of birds
continue, as - defended by the cortege of their wings -
my soul among
strange silences yet sings.
... the type of surrealism I'm drawn to.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
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arrested development revisit // 8:53 am
Sometimes my eyeballs feel like they're going to fall right out of my skull's sockets because my entire brain is turning into spaghetti.
I get why teachers used to keep telling us to be quiet... it's because noise noise noise noise noise noise bombard all the time time is just... exhausting.
Kid G: *playing with Halloween themed puppets* DIE DIE DIE DIE
Me: G! STOP. THE. VIOLENCE. NO MORE DYING.
Kid G: BAM BAM BAM BAM
Me: G, if you're going to keep doing that, I'm going to have to take it away.
Kid G: DIE DIE DIE DIE
Me: G, please stop dying. STOP.
Oh, the life of grade 1s.
Monday, October 25, 2010
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what goes up must come down // 12:18 pm
Sometimes dreams...
Saturday, October 23, 2010
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delay // 1:11 pm
The time I usually have to blog is few and far between these days.
I can hardly keep my eyes open and I constantly feel like I smell bad. Will these be my days from now until forever? Is this something I look forward to?
I am just human. Please don't expect more from me than you expect from yourself.
I'm learning lots about my profession each day; one thing being that
tact really is a teacher's best friend when it comes to a lot of things.
In many ways, I am still just a child and I fire off in all different directions. For that, I am sorry and I apologize to you -- you who I fired off at; but please understand, it's only because it's been too long since I've seen you and you're supposed to be... you. That should be enough to say what needs to be said.
My life is of TV and of marking papers and of sleep. And a blur of words just like this post.
Scattered like unkempt linen or even fluff after a pillow fight or dust from a fake plant or a heartbeat out of rhythm or or or or
In the math curriculum in-service workshop today, the lady was mentioning how to create a pathway of learning for math. We were talking about measurement, including measuring time. She said, "Measuring time is not the same as the other units of measurement, time is not a linear measurement."
Time, my friends, is not linear. Not at all. I feel age crumbling onto me the same time as my growing young. I also feel slightly more cynical and more scared of reality.
In the meantime, a dose of Atwood for you,
...they were taught to smile with gentle melancholy, and to sing the songs of the Goddess, which were about absence and silence, about unfulfilled love and unexpressed regret, and wordlessness -- songs about the impossibility of singing.And then this, how beautiful are these words,
Farewells can be shattering, but returns are surely worse. Solid flesh can never live up to the bright shadow cast by its absence. Time and distance blur the edges; then suddenly the beloved as arrived, and it's noon with its merciless light, and every spot and pore and wrinkle and bristle stands clear.
Monday, October 18, 2010
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Atwood has a blogger's mindset down to their very impulse // 9:21 am
Why is it we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we're still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas... we carve our names on trees, we scrawl them on washroom walls. It's all the same impulse. What do we hope from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get?
At the very least we want a witness. We can't stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like a radio running down.
- From The Blind Assassin
What an uneventfully pleasant weekend.
The bliss was too short. Time to battle another week.
Two left to go and our war is over.
Push through, you can do it!
Thursday, October 14, 2010
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hamster hair // 7:47 am
There's a child in my class who has soft fur-like hair, he reminds me of that hamster our house used to own. I wonder what shampoo he uses.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
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Bernard // 11:15 am
It's so hard to pinpoint one specific themed thing to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. There are just too many things.
What am I thankful for?
...sometimes, even I'm astounded by my own spontaneity.
"And any man who knows a thing knows
He knows not a damn, damn thing at all..."
just gonna take a minute
Sunday, October 10, 2010
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why why why // 9:41 am
... why does everything I do lead straight back to you?
Happy birthday, John Lennon.
Saturday, October 09, 2010
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displacement of time // 11:10 pm
I could sleep forever, I could sleep longer than sleeping beauty.
What's a couple hundred years to me?
What I am thankful for? I am thankful for TV, for Grey's Anatomy and for sleep, sweet as honey. I am thankful for fights with my father and thankful for cousins' phone numbers.
I am thankful for poutine and milk and tea. (I crave turkey stuffing.)
I am thankful I still have the time to act like an invalid in bed.
How must Yoko feel, after so many years, living in the same appartment?
Friday, October 08, 2010
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whales and turkeys // 5:22 am
O Canada, thanks for your engendered anthem debates
and your mosaic demographic.
Most of all, thank you for Canadian children who sing
O Canada off pitch and tune in schools every morning.
I spend too much time in the photocopy room.
It drives me a little insane.
Thursday, October 07, 2010
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left my heart in the 613 and the 852 // 10:17 am
That feeling of waking up to the dark, faintly arriving dawn is the worst feeling. Then the weather forecast cries rain all week and all I want to do is crawl back into my interrupted hibernation. A burrow of warmth.
Sadly, I must force myself out of bed and:
a) kill trees -- also known as photocopy a million pages of useless things in the name of children's education.
b) drive on the express and the highway of heroes
c) drink tea eat bananas
d) read aloud
e) compliment people
f) kill more trees.
Back in the 613, I would wake up in the mornings, groggy and find one of my housemates (I won't tell you which one) sitting there in the kitchen in the dark, quiet, hunched over, sipping tea in a very awkward stance and stare at some insignificant substance far in the distance of her imagination. Frankly it was an eerie activity that I never interrupted and it unnerved me greatly at first, but now I find myself doing that very thing. Just sitting out the ABSOLUTE exhaustion from the world around me.
I hate trying to impress people. It's tough and being on high alert all the time makes me antsy and feel like what I'm doing is going all to waste.
I'm tired and I just need to lie there and cry and then sleep a good long sleep.
On top of that, I'm missing people. Missing too many people.
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
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sampling // 8:32 am
stimuli overload and
I
always feels like I need sleep.
