Soon, My Friends

Longing for my head to hit the pillow
Unfortunately I have to use the restroom and I'm too tired to get up and go.
    Thought I'd share this with you since I'm SUPER PSYCHED about it.

Maggie Stievfater is without a doubt one of my favorite YA authors. Shiver made me jittery with excitement, the final chapters of Linger haunted me, and I'm sure I'll never want Forever to end.

For your convenience, you can buy Forever here: http://www.fountainbookstore.com/autograph-maggie. 

Have an awesome Tuesday!

This Just In: Letter to the Public at Large

from BestCousinsEver on iconator.com

Listening to Comfortable by John Mayer, for Corey. 
Psyched for tomorrow! Sekrit trip!!
Tonight, I have a special Letter to the Public at Large, and only one Letter to an Inanimate Object. Sorry if it's mean. I'm just being honest. Read, absorb, and act, my friends.

Dear People of the Restaurant-Going Persuasion,

Most restaurants close at a particular time. While it may be somewhat inconvenient for your hunger needs, it is very important to the employees of those restaurants, who have lives, and aching feet, deteriorating sanity, and sleep habits. Most restaurants and eating establishments firmly suggest that you leave the premises precisely at their closing time - Starbucks, for example, has done this to me. Yes, I agree that you never want to be booted out of a restaurant, but you have to understand there's a reason they do it. They have to close, clean and stock and organize. Now, where I work, we don't tell you to leave when we close (at nine, FYI). We tell you that the restaurant is closed, and please use the side door when exiting the building (which someone always fails to accomplish), but we don't kick you out. This lovely news bulletin applies to all restaurants, not just the one at which I work. Two things: Don't walk in the door at 8:59 when you know the restaurant closes at nine. Yes, you do know it closes at nine; it's on a sticker on the door of every restaurant, and when you walk through the door at 8:59, my manager is telling you that we're closed over the speaker. Secondly, if you happen to arrive at that time and want food, don't order it and sit down to eat. That's rude. It gives us more dishes to wash, more tables to wipe (because I promise you, someone just wiped that one before you sat down and dumped your dinner on it), and requires that we wait until you leave to bring in the coffees and teas and start cleaning. Be polite and order it to-go. We'll gladly bag it for you. And one more thing. If you come in at 8:45 and sit down to eat, don't ignore the fact that we're closed at nine just because we don't kick you out. We're being considerate of you by not doing so, so you should be considerate of our closing schedule and leave within at least five minutes of our closing. For your own sake, don't sit in your crumb-covered dirty-dish-laden booth until 9:30, unless you want every employee to hate you. Personally. I realize that our restaurant is a fantastic place to hang out and eat a relaxed meal and chit-chat with your pals, but if you're there until 9:30, some employees may not leave until midnight. I don't know about them, but when I die of exhaustion and sleep deprivation, I will haunt all your meals the rest of your life. Your every bite will be watched. I'll use my ghosty-powers to clean your table and put away your dishes before you've even started eating. So you can either enjoy that forty-five minute dinner now and suffer eerie meals under my watchful glare the rest of your life, or you can be kind to the tired employees of restaurants everywhere and thank them sincerely for their hard work over your meal as you amble out the door at closing time.
Sincerely,
Sarah Jane

    Sorry if that was a bit harsh, guys. On a lighter note:

Dear Book,

I'm really excited about tomorrow. We're gonna have so much fun. I'm adding some awesome stuff to you very soon, and tomorrow I'm doing some research for it on a super sekrit trip. Get psyched. I get to take out my Handy Dandy *pause* Notebook again for, well, notes. And I'm excited. I haven't added anything new to you since the November before last... It's gonna be TIGHT!
Until we meet again,
Sarah Jane

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.