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Emma

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many bothans died to bring us this information. [Aug. 31st, 2007|12:19 am]
Emma
my non-science major science class professor is the spitting image of mon mothma. appearance, voice, mannerisms, everything.



i have a long history of hating mon mothma.

she also talks at us as though we are twelve. just because none of us are bio majors doesn't mean we're idiots, thank you. i want to go up to her someday and ask her what the heck is a bothan anyway.
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HARRY POTTER!!!! [Jul. 22nd, 2007|12:31 am]
Emma
[Current Music |feist - "1234"]

i finished the book around 9 pm, and didn't even stay up all night. or read all day. i slept. showered. ate. went grocery shopping. and still made damn good time :)

nevertheless, this day has been quite possible the most emotionally intense day of my LIFE. holy cow.

i went to wal-mart to get it with peter, eric, and natalie, and we met tierney and jennifer at eric's afterwards to have a reading party. i'm totally serious. i mean, who does that!? well, we did ;)

anyway, we were at eric's until around 5 am reading, but i only got about 150 pages done because we girls kept freaking out to each other as we read ("oh my god! are you on page 63 yet!? tell me when you are!") then i came home, read for an hour, slept for 6, woke up at 12, read for 2 hours, took a shower and went to kroger, and then read for 4 hours. i could not -- could not read this book all the way through without stopping like i did the fifth and sixth book, for reasons good and bad.

reason #1. my emotions were on turbo, and there were points when i simply could not take anymore.

reason #2. some of it was just . . . so . . . BORING.

other than that, i just wanna say something that you should NOT read if you haven't finished the book!Collapse )

and now i kind of want to fish through the book again and read some of the awesomeness it had but i lent my copy to chris chung :(
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but anything worth doing is worth doing badly [Jul. 19th, 2007|10:05 pm]
Emma
[Current Music |the postmarks - "goodbye"]

i have now read 3 poems by jack gilbert and 2 of them changed my life. i think i am in love.

please read on: "Failing and Flying"

. . . the stars burning so extravagantly those nights that anyone could tell you they would never last.Collapse )
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poem post [Apr. 27th, 2007|03:16 pm]
Emma

"Married" by Jack Gilbert

I came back from the funeral and crawled

around the apartment, crying hard,

searching for my wife's hair.

For two months got them from the drain,

from the vacuum cleaner, under the refrigerator,

and off the clothes in the closet.

But after other Japanese women came,

there was no way to be sure which were hers,

and I stopped. A year later,

repotting Michiko's avocado, I find

a long black hair tangled in the dirt.
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WATCH THIS! [Apr. 26th, 2007|03:33 pm]
Emma
sweet high-def version of the new harry potter and the order of the phoenix trailer!
it'll change your life!

just don't watch the youtube version, it sucks

a couple days ago my neighbor sarah and i turned the lights off and the sound all the way up and watched this and we both SCREAMED at the end, and afterwards she said, "i think i just came." yeah. pretty much.
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love and dinosaurs [Mar. 29th, 2007|03:18 pm]
Emma
[Current Mood |random]
[Current Music |elliott smith]

i am now the proud owner of this shirtCollapse ), and i am so excited about it it's unnatural. i love it, love love love it.

speaking of love, i still believe in it, contrary to what i or what my facebook groups say. how can i not? oh, suninos, i changed my layout for real this time. happy now? it's recycled but at least it isn't as orange?
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i gave her my heart, she gave me a pen. [Mar. 5th, 2007|08:54 am]
Emma
[Current Music |the submarines - "this conversation"]

    movies i want to see:
300
science of sleep
casino royale
tmnt
pan's labyrinth

    movies i want to own:
rebecca (alfred hitchcock version)
late night with conan o'brien 10th anniversary special
little miss sunshine
say anything
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main lib episode iv [Feb. 23rd, 2007|10:38 am]
Emma
[Tags|]
[Current Location |ESPRESSO!!]
[Current Mood |ESPRESSO]
[Current Music |ESPRESSO!!!!]

as far as shots are concerned, ESPRESSO>ALCOHOL!!!!!!!!!!

i am now writing my third and L A S T paper of the week -- i just finished the introduction and i have about 3 hours remaining to crank out 4 pages . . . wish me luck
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old news [Feb. 8th, 2007|11:49 pm]
Emma
[Current Music |the submarines - "waterloo sunset"]

i think i'm starting to figure things out. where i am, where i belong, what i want, etc. my major, for example. english really is what i want to do. at first i just chose it because i couldn't figure out what the hell else to study, and even though i struggle to get good grades sometimes (because i'm lazy, not because i can't) i keep having these minor epiphanic moments. like analyzing "lying in a hammock on william duffy's farm in pine island, minnesota" (oh yes, hays grads . . . oh yes). i have a love/hate relationship with poetry. if i don't spend time reading it, i simply will not understand it, but on good days i hang on every word -- and on very good days a poem hits me hard. like the last line in "lying in a hammock," or one phrase in a poem by denise levertov: "transformation of witnessing eyes to pulp-fragments." i can't even remember the context of it now, but it doesn't matter. it's still beautiful.

what am i going to do with an english major? i don't know. i haven't figured that part out yet.

as for where i belong, i've realized it's wherever i am. it's like the beatles said, "there's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be." so, when i'm here, we'll make it awesome. when i'm gone to goodness knows where over the summer, we'll make it awesome there, too. speaking of awesome, last weekend was it. three of my floormates i never suspected would be open to drinking underage got drunk with me, and we romped about moffat being annoying and laughing. okay, it sounds soooo lame, but i would definitely take drinking with 3 of my favorite people over partying with 40 random people any day. like i said, just make it awesome . . . but don't forget to study. which i usually do :(

oh, yes, and school sucks. but it's my fault for being lazy. i'm thinking of withdrawing from a class . . . possibly classical mythology, just because i bombed the first test, it's boring as hell, and i'd get a lot more enjoyment out of reading up on it myself. 18 credit hours is not as easy as i thought it would be, especially since i work a lot on weekdays now.

thank you natalie for the submarines & jenn cristy :D me gusta mucho.
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the angels are desolate [Feb. 3rd, 2007|11:56 am]
Emma
[Current Mood |apatheticapathetic]

Robert Hass, "The Privilage of Being"

Many are making love. Up above, the angels
in the unshaken ether and crystal of human longing
are braiding one another's hair, which is strawberry blond
and the texture of cold rivers. They glance
down from time to time at the awkward ecstasy--
it must look to them like featherless birds
splashing in the spring puddle of a bed--
and then one woman, she is about to come,
peels back the man's shut eyelids and says,
look at me, and he does. Or is it the man
tugging the curtain rope in that dark theater?
Anyway, they do, they look at each other;
two beings with evolved eyes, rapicious,
startled, connected at the belly in an unbelievably sweet
lubricous glue, stare at each other,
and the angels are desolate. They hate it. They shudder pathetically
like lithgraphs of Victorian beggars
with perfect features and alabaster skin hawking rags
in the lewd alleys of the novel.
All of creation is offened by this distress.
It is like the keening sound the moon makes sometimes,
rising. The lovers especially cannot bear it,
it fills them with unspeakable sadness, so that
they close their eyes again and hold each other, each
feeling the moral singularity of the body
they have enchanted out of death for an hour or so,
and one day, running at sunset, the woman says to the man,
I woke up feeling so sad this morning because I realized
that you could not, as much as I love you,
dear heart, cure my loneliness
,
wherewith she touched his cheek to reassure him
that she did not mean to hurt him with this truth.
And the man is not hurt exactly,
he understands that life has limits, the people
die young, fail at love,
fail of their ambitions. He runs beside her, he thinks
of the sadness they have gasped and crooned their way out of
coming, clutching each other with old, invented
forms of grace and clumsy gratitude, ready
to be alone again, or dissatisfied, or merely
companionable like the couples on the summer beach
reading magazine articles about intimacy between the sexes
to themselves, and to each other,
and to the immense, illiterate, consoling angels.


Reading this poem gives me my first real emotion in days. I don't know why I am so damn neutral lately. Not sad. Not happy. I guess it's a step up from completely depressed, but it's still not pleasant.

I just want to feel again . . . but it's almost like I can't remember how.
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