The Finals Frenzy

from ViNTAGE_iS_lOVEe on iconator.com

Jumping up and down like a crazy person to Galaxies by Owl City. I am in complete infatuation with this song. I've had it on repeat for almost a week now. It's probably unhealthy, but I'm not looking to improve my health habits in the midst of all-nighters-and-fast-food-so-I-can-study-and-write-week. Yes. That's what it's called. Didn't you know? ANAFFSICSAWW. It's all over the news.
    Yeah, I totally changed the blog name and URL. I'm sorry, but I like this one much better, and I think it fits a little better. As you can probably tell, I have a thing for puns/playing-on-words (and with them, for that matter). Dang Write - Dang Right. And now The Soul, Unquiet Thing. It comes from a poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge called "Frost At Midnight." Contextually, my title doesn't make much sense. But in my mind, it's perfect. Explanation:
    Here is the first stanza of the poem:

The Frost performs its secret ministry,

Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry

Came loud—and hark, again! loud as before.

The inmates of my cottage, all at rest,

Have left me to that solitude, which suits

Abstruser musings: save that at my side

My cradled infant slumbers peacefully.

'Tis calm indeed! so calm, that it disturbs

And vexes meditation with its strange

And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood,

This populous village! Sea, and hill, and wood,

With all the numberless goings-on of life,

Inaudible as dreams! the thin blue flame

Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not;

Only that film, which fluttered on the grate,

Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing.

Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature

Gives it dim sympathies with me who live,

Making it a companionable form,

Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit

By its own moods interprets, every where

Echo or mirror seeking of itself,

And makes a toy of Thought.

    I realize this is a little heavy compared to my regular "I lost my car again" blog posts, but bear with me. I'm about to go all English major on you. The speaker of the poem is looking out at a silent winter night. Everything is completely still; everyone else in the house, the "inmates" are asleep. It's so calm and quiet that he can hardly thinK. Nothing moves, not even the flame in the fireplace - it burns without flickering. The only thing that moves at all is the "film, which fluttered on the grate, / still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing" (I even highlighted it for you - I know, I'm so good to you).  Because this "film" (which means a piece of soot) is the only other thing moving, it is a "companionable form" to the speaker, stirred by some "idling Spirit".
    The soul is a very unquiet thing, too. In fact, while some people can be very subdued and quiet, I can guarantee their soul has much to say. I know my soul isn't the "sole unquiet thing," but I'd like to think by being an "unquiet thing," my soul can be companionable to yours. :) Cheesy, I know, but get over it.

~

    Alright, now that you've had your daily learnin' from me, let's move on to less dense subjects. Like bubbles. (See what I did there? 'Cause bubbles aren't dense? Ha..) 

    This week and next week are my last two weeks of classes, and I'm kind of dying. I'm more or less a zombie. And with all these lovely storms ravaging the southeast, my internet and computer and printer decided to go on holiday. Convenient. Let's just run through my schedule for this week:

• Thursday: Massive research paper for English 2145 due at 9:30 (and I'm nowhere near finished) and Poetry Reading I, and decidedly smaller paper for World History due at 6:30 (only 1500 words, and I've done all the research. Cake.) also review day for WH Final
• Friday: work from 4-close (which will be around eleven once I finish closing)
• Saturday: special sekrit trip for book research. SO EXCITED!
• Sunday: Church. Work from 4-close (we close an hour earlier on Sundays, but will still be there until at least ten)
• Monday: Italian Final (I'm hoping for a C at least, and unfortunately that's wishful thinking), British Literature 1600-Present Survey Final. Work 4-close (around eleven)
• Tuesday: Reflective Essay for English 2145 due and Poetry Reading II, World History Final.

    If I'm a zombie now, imagine what I'll be by this time next week. Someone, please, have pity on this unfortunate unmentionable and cut off her head now while she can appreciate it.

Why Positivity Doesn't Pay Off

from HunHunHoney on iconator.com

Listening to Alligator Sky by Owl City (Feat. Shawn Chrystopher) Check it out - it's a pleasant surprise!
Avoiding editing my book. I can't handle the ugly.
    I woke up today and (despite having a really weird dream involving zombies and tattooing dead zombie skin) decided that today would be a good day. I rarely do this. It's not that I'm a negative person; I just don't consciously think, "Today will be a good day."
    At first, it seemed like it was working. I was only a few minutes late to class. (Being late for me is normal; my internal clock is perpetually slow. Yesterday I thought for some stupid reason that my class didn't start until 11:30. Where I got this idea, I couldn't say. Italian has been at 11:00 a.m. since January. The day before I almost drove away with the gas thing still in my car at the gas station. I'm losing it, I swear.) I got an A on my research proposal. And I had a lovely plan in my head to get a new pair of (better fitting) shorts and a soft off-the-shoulder tee that I'd seen was on sale. 
    I have two pairs of shorts from last summer that are now too big, so I thought I'd sell them back to one of those stores that buy new and gently used clothing. I knew that denim shorties were on sale at American Eagle for under 25 (convenient, right?), and I also had a 15% off coupon. I figured with the money from two pairs of shorts and the discount, I'd get those shorts at a steal. 
    I went to American Eagle first to be sure that the shorts looked okay on me, and to find the tee that was on sale. Unfortunately the tee wasn't on the floor, so I asked an employee for help. She brought out three in my size from the back - black, white, and hot pink. None of those three colors really look good on me, so I asked if she'd be able to find any of the pastel tees. She went to look and there weren't any in my size, but there was one in a Medium, so I took it. I figured, it's on sale, sure, right? Well, I brought all of it up to the counter and asked if she'd hold it there so I could go sell my shorts and get the money for it. She seemed happy to oblige, but I felt that she was probably irritated with me having her do so much for me. 
    Cut to the new and gently used store. Zoom in on a super cute navy blue white polka-dot romper by the counter. Eight bucks. What. A. Bargain. So I bought that, and when I did, they told me they couldn't buy back either of my shorts. Way to ruin my whole set up. They did give me a 10% discount on the romper, but still, $7.64 from $8... Anyways, I got into my car eight bucks poorer and Little Red (my car) took that opportunity to say "Low Fuel." Perfect.
    Back at American Eagle (now bereft of $28), I couldn't possibly come back and tell the poor girl who'd gone through all that trouble for me that I didn't have the money to buy that shirt I made her dig for and the shorts. So I bought them. For forty freaking dollars. 
    Can you hear that? It's the few pennies I have left echoing as they clatter to the floor of my bank account.

Letters to Inanimate Objects 4/9

From Artemodelo at iconator.com

Relaxing to Mountain and the Sea by Ingrid Michaelson
Geeking out about my awesome delivery from the mailman!
So, I'm definitely overdue for a post, I know. I'm sorry for slacking. Truth be told, I've had quite a week! I could have posted Tuesday, but I just didn't feel like it, and the rest of the week flew by, so here I am. And here are your letters to inanimate objects for the week - and one person! (Still looking for another interesting post-tradition.)

Dear Herbal Essences Touchably Smooth Shampoo,

    Do you realize how awesome you are? I don't say that to all my new inanimate friends, either. I was a little hesitant trying to forge a relationship with you in the shower two days ago (that sounds kinky, doesn't it?), but boy did we hit it off! (Yeah, that sounds really kinky.) Not only do you work wonders, but you smell fantastic, and linger all day - even through the stench of the back kitchen at work, and that's no small feat! I worked from ten a.m. to four p.m. today, and when I hopped in the car and took down my hair, fwoosh! I was hit with a glorious whiff of your sweet scent! So refreshing after a long day. Keep up the good work!

Dear Mac-and-cheese from work,

    I really enjoying eating you (gosh, why does everything sound dirty today?), but you make me sick every time. I've tried over and over. Even when I take you home and eat you after work (good grief.. maybe I shouldn't even go on..), I still feel ill. (Before this starts sounding any worse,) I think we need to end our relationship. Sorry. 

Dear Coco,

    I've sent you letters, I promise. Letter upon letter. But your letter told me you hadn't gotten any! That's extremely disheartening, because I wrote you a letter every day for the first two weeks since you've been gone. Albeit, I put them all in one envelope, but still! I used the address your dad gave me - the second one - and still you haven't gotten it? What gives, person-who-delivers-letters-to-guys-in-basic? I spent forever on those letters! Knock off your slackin'!


Sincerely,
Sarah Jane