On repeat

When I was born, they looked at me and said,
"What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy."
And when you were born, they looked at you and said,
"What a good girl, what a what a smart girl, what a pretty girl."

I was going to use "Testing 1, 2, 3": both are by bnl, both have good lyrics, but this is the song that decided to get stuck in my head today, at least stuck there when I started writing.

We've got these chains that hang around our necks
people want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath.
Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same,
when temptation calls, we just look away.

My mom brought me flowers on Friday, my favorite flowers. She didn't know they were. I need to give her more credit. She's a pretty cool mom. I'm kind of looking forward to Thanksgiving with her. Fingers crossed, we'll only spend 94% of the time talking about Sister's wedding. That gives me a whole 6% just to talk to her.

Chorus
This name is the hairshirt I wear
and this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair.
This song is the cross that I bear,
bear it with me, bear with me, bear with me, be with me tonight,
I know that it isn't right, but be with me tonight.

Here I should look up "hairshirt" and tell you exactly how the definition fits my interpretation of the song. But that would influence your reading. And I'm lazy.

I have yet to write a love poem--a real love poem. Kapka thought that "Adam" was a love poem. And maybe it is, just a little bit, but I realized this morning, as I started to turn around some lines for a poem that wants to be written that I've loved but I've never been in love. I'm not a person who argues that you can only write what you know--you can imagine--but I think I need to be in love before I write a love poem that is aware that it is a love poem. Maybe I'm wrong.

I go to school, I write exams,
if I pass, if I fail, if I drop out,
does anyone give a damn?
And if they do, they'll soon forget 'cause it won't take much for me
to show my life ain't over yet.

I have two seminar papers coming due. One is ten pages and on teaching, which I understand. One is twenty pages and on anything under the sun that I can tie to Benjamin, Levinas, or Zizek--none of whom I understand.

I wake up scared, I wake up strange.
I wake up wondering if anything in my life is ever going to change.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange
and everything around me stays the same.

Yes.

Chorus

Writing about yourself is difficult--as in writing an introduction. What do you include? What do you leave how? How much is necessary and how much is bragging?

Another difficult writing task: writing an email to someone who you haven't seen in years but who just wrote you. How much of it needs to be formal and how much of you is allowed? What if you still have just a touch of schoolgirl crush on this person? Or is that too 1990s?

I couldn't tell you that I was wrong,
chickened out, grabbed a pen and paper, sat down and I wrote this song.
I couldn't tell you that you were right,
so instead I looked in the mirror,
watched TV, laid awake all night.

Yesterday was my movie day.

I was chatting with my cousin and he suddenly quoted Say Anything. It didn't occur to me at first--I prefer to converse with people who regularly quote Say Anything--but then I realized that cousin is not one of those people. Turns out he and his girlfriend (who is also my roommate) had borrowed it over the weekend. Hooray for spreading the Say Anything love.

Pelican Brief: I don't know why I wanted to watch this movie, but I did. And so I watched it. And I still don't know why. (It is a very well done adaptation.)

Confession: that's not the title of a movie. It's what I'm about to do. Confess. I don't really like the A&E version of Pride and Prejudice. It's six freaking hours, people. And Jane is ugly. And for that matter, so is Elizabeth. And it's six hours. So last night, when I went to see the new P&P, I was bracing myself. I quite enjoyed it. After I see it again I'll post a decent review.

We've got these chains, hang 'round our necks,
people want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath.
Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same when temptation calls ...

I'm going to Hurricane for Thanksgiving again. My aunt has internet, but it's so heavily screened that they only have access to lds.org, byu.edu, and cleanflicks, so I'm not sure when I'll be back to blog.

Chorus

Plus I don't give my family this address.

When I was born, they looked at me and said:
"What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy."
And when you were born, they looked at you and said:
"What a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl."