This is for the hoverers...
This is for the hoverers. I figured that if anyone still posts here anymore, ever, that at least we'll have a semi-recent post to begin under.
I still don't know, though...Is this blog dead? Ah, well. Anyone who still hovers, hover here. :-)
And so this blog entry is not entirely useless and empty, I'll try to think of something to say. Oh, I know. Ayla and I talked yesterday of how we miss literature class. Block C just isn't the same anymore...I'm the only one from our literature class taking French 12, and it's during the same block, with teleconferencing and everything, but it isn't even close to the same. It's almost tragic, actually, when you thnik about it. Ha. When I read my poetry books at home now and come across something we did in literature class, I smile. Yay!
Anyone else homesick for literature class? Haha. I already know the answer! :-) How sad.
Anyhow, long live the hoverer. I'm on my study and I am going to go STUDY now. Fancy that!
posted by Ruth | 10:31 AM
11 Comments:
hoverer is one of those words like banana...it looks like it could go on forever, and still mean the same thing.
i.e.: hoverererererererererer
bananananananananananana
Haha, that post demostrates one of the key reasons why I pledge my infinite affection to you, Anne. :-D
Thank you Ruth for taking the initiative and posting something. I think a few of us hae been wanting to this as well, just we've had nothing to say. I don't think that a class as unique and interesting as englit can die per say. The class may be over, but look at us, mourning the loss of our beloved class, analayzing every poem that we see, deciding what hidden meaning it has, would byron have agreed? Anyway long live englit
and making literary allusions to everything that anyone says in history.
Well, it's now 6 am, and I've been up for an hour already. I guess I'll hover for a bit as well. Yes, another tiny glimpse into the tragedy that is my life :-)
Just for the hell of it, here are a few stanzas from a poem by my new favourite Irish poet Patrick Galvin. It's taken from his book The Raggy Boy Trilogy.
Song for a Poor Boy
And silver ghosts leapt from his hand
When famine raged across the land
We locked him in a padded cell
And said he'd surely go to hell
And twist and burn
But in the dark he learned to creep
When all the guards were fast asleep
And in his house of spinning pearls
He hopped about in loops and whirls
And rang the bell.
We chained him to the madhouse floor
And heard his long night-goblin's roar
He split the chain and smashed the lock
And stopped the white wall-ticking clock
And climbed the stair.
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Why on earth are you awake at 5am? That's horrible! Actually, it is not so different from the tragedy that is my life: Saturday night eventually became Sunday morning to me - I went to bed at 3:30a.m. and was awake again at 9:15p.m. It would be more fun to sleep in past 9:00p.m. if it meant I had more than five hours of sleep. It is now Wednesday and I still have not gotten to sleep before midnight in days.
I truly cannot WAIT for Spring Break.
Patrick Galvin sounds like a neat guy, I might have to look into his work...But first I want to finish Jane Eyre and Wanda Hickey's Night of Golden Memories and Other Distasters, and the numerous other books that are on my to-read list.
I'm happy I'm not the only hoverer! :-D Best wishes everyone.
I'm still here! LIVE FROM NEW YORK!
http://www.hushreality.com/images/chrisclarknyc.jpg
Hovering is fun.
In answering Bekki's question: I have made an even more tragic typo in the website field. Once - and this was a few years ago now - while trying to go to "www.ask.com" I accidentally typed double s, instead of a k. It was, in a word, FRIGHTENING.
So, how was everyone's Spring Break? Has anyone done any exciting reading?
Congratulations to Ruth and Ayla for finishing in the top three in the District Writing Contest. If the two of you aren't wallowing in fame and/or cash within the next few years, I will be seriously disappointed. You are both brilliant writers (this is written despite the fact that I haven't got a clue)
All the best,
MC
By the way, I just finished Under the Volcano by Malcolm Lowry. Perhaps this is appropriate for me at this time. Nonetheless, bonus marks for anyone who can give me the origin of the Consul's lines (addressed to a dog, by the way) "For God sees how timid and beautiful you really are, and the thoughts of hope that go withe you like little white birds--"
By the way, if you are hard-up for something great to read, this is the book. It's hard to get into, but I think it's worth the effort.
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