(no subject)

And yet another reason to be glad I'm not going to OSU--half the team is in or working on As You Like It this week, and there's a big cast party Friday night. There are already announcements of heavy drinking to be done and ensuing declarations of refusals to dance with any partner who's hungover. I have a feeling it could turn into a real mess.

And I don't have to deal with it! Mwahahaha!!! *dances around gleefully* This skipping OSU business could turn out to be the best decision I ever made. :)

And to think ballroom had a reputation of being pretty much clean and dry last semester. Then lots of people turned 21, I guess. Or maybe it's just cast parties. Whatever...a good number of ballroomers are still intelligent enough to lay off the alcohol before comps, though, which is really all I care about.

- Becca

(no subject)

Stewart, Allyson, and I have decided that with so many writers living on Wellness next year, we should start some sort of writing club. Then that evolved into starting our own publishing company, which will be called the Wellness Cult Publishing Company (long story). We can even have a web presence on my server. At the very least, we probably could put out some sort of chapbook-y thing. Hehehe.

We had our English pre-preregistration informational meeting today. Damn. Sergei, the department chair, was definitely giving off a sexy intellectual vibe. I may have to reverse my decision not to take a Shakespeare course at Kenyon if that's all he's teaching next year...


I'm currently obsessing over this song.

"Seeds of Love" -- words traditional, music by Loreena McKennitt

I sowed the seeds of love
I sowed them in the spring
I gathered them up in the morning so clear
When the small birds so sweetly sing
When the small birds so sweetly sing

The gardener was standing by
I asked him to choose for me
He chose for me the violet, the lily and the pink
But those I refused all three
But those I refused all three

The violet I did not like
Because it bloomed so soon
The lily and the pink I really over-think
So I thought I would wait till June
So I thought I would wait till June

In June there was a red rose bud
That is the flower for me
I often times have plucked that red rose bud
Till I gained the willow tree
Till I gained the willow tree

The willow tree will twist
The willow tree will twine
I often have wished I was in the young man's arms
Who once had the heart of mine
Who once had the heart of mine

I sowed the seeds of love
I sowed them in the spring
I gathered them up in the morning so soon
When the small birds so sweetly sing
When the small birds so sweetly sing

*looks at time* History paper? What history paper?

- Becca

(no subject)

What do I do when I need to be writing research papers? I write poetry, of course.

Elegy on a small gravestone in Danville, Virginia

"Our Baby," it says, with no names or dates;
a little gray monument half-hidden in grass,
small like the child itself, sexless,
devoid of the proper ritual that makes passing easier—

"Our Baby," the chiseled words managing
to look mournful because of the absence
of others; perhaps there was no time
for a name that would encompass all the hopes for

"Our Baby," which now lies with its back in the grass,
staring up without sight at the sky,
keeping silence on who it was, who created it,
when and how and why it left the world so soon.

"Our Baby," forgotten by those who share its blood,
left to be weathered by wind and southern sun,
the rain a thin shadow for the tears
that are not shed on this hidden grave
that could be anyone's baby.


- Becca