blogging about blogs

Tomorrow I give my presentation in class about my experience as a blogger. Over the past four months, I've been researching blogs and posting on my own (this one). As I finish up my notes for my presentation, I've realized that doing this project has completely altered my opinion about both blogs and bloggers in two large ways.

1. I have great respect for anyone who keeps a blog. There is a great amount of dedication, passion and effort that acts as the foundation for these sites. I found myself struggling to post frequently which ultimately didn't make my blog as strong as it could have been. In order to keep a blog alive, I've realized that you must keep your viewers engaged and stimulated. This takes effort and a lot of it. It also takes a great deal of passion which is so apparent in each and every blog that I look at. So, to all those people out there who blog, I bow down to you.

2. I always questioned why people actually kept a blog if there was a chance that no one was even looking at it. Over the past few months, I've stumbled across a variety of blogs, including ones that have absolutely nothing to do with poetry. It's funny...I find the ones that aren't being written for an audience to be the best. Here lies the true feelings behind an anonymous person, one who you'll probably never meet. You can't get anything more real than that.

This project has come to a close. I no longer have to worry about posting on this blog. Want to know something funny? Even though there were times when I dreaded writing something to post on here, I really did enjoy this project. It opened my eyes to an entirely new world.

It's for that reason that I have decided to keep a blog of my own. I can't promise it'll be interesting or life-changing. What I can promise, is that it will be updated frequently :) http://taffetaandteacups.blogspot.com/

There's a genius a among us, in the crowds...

-Lewis Carroll

[think outside the box & you'll discover more than you thought you ever could]

I stumbled upon something else...

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/2dB0lZ/home.swipnet.se/%257Ew-15266/cultur/bukowski/

www.stumbleupon.com

I discovered this website the other day while I was waiting for my laundry to finish. It has quickly become my best friend and my enemy. Instead of working on papers or studying for exams, I find myself tucked into my bed at night, pressing the Stumble button over and over again. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, go to www.stumbleupon.com . I'm not lying when I say it'll change your life.

I just came across this article written by xstephens. I have no idea where or who this man is, but this article caught my attention immediately, right from the title "Never Date a Writer." Maybe this is why no one wants to date an English Major...

Never Date a Writer

Never date a writer because she’ll fictionalize everything. She’ll write about things you have done to her, or things you never did for her. She’ll write about how you never bought her flowers. Not once. She’ll say in well-constructed prose how the whole time you were together, she never came home from a long week to see a vase full of roses, or daises, or anything.

She’ll describe times you embarrassed her, like at a party. It was her party because she was leaving for three months, and all her friends were there to see her off. People bought her champagne, which was never chilled, but you drank it anyway and that was after you had had whiskey. She’ll talk about how you played strip poker with others. And she walked in to see your clothes bunched up on the floor, next to smashed cigarette butts. She’ll say how she had to cover you with a coat because all her friends laughed about it, and so did you. Then she’ll describe how later, when she didn’t want to leave you and she wanted to be held, she heard you vomit in the bathroom. She’ll say how she had to make sure you were still alive and how she saw your face pressed against the toilet and how your legs shook on the tile. And she said your name and asked if you were okay and you just stared at her through half opened eyelids and looked away. She’ll say she couldn’t make love to you and she had to stay up and make coffee, before you took her to the airport.

She’ll continue this emphasis on what you had done to her, by describing things she had found, but said nothing about. Like when she opened your wallet to slide twenty dollars inside, because you had bought her dinner. She’ll say how she sat on the hardwood floor where the heat couldn’t reach and she shivered. She’ll explain the condom she found, and how it was lubricated and had small writing on the package she couldn’t see because her eyes watered. She’ll talk about the note she found from a girl she didn’t know but you did because in the scribbled handwriting she could make out your name. You were asleep on the bed and she was on the floor. She’ll tell the reader how she held her legs and tapped her chin against her knee. And she decided that it’s not wrong for men to have friends, because all men have friends, so she closed the wallet and slept without a blanket on the floor.

She’ll later describe the moment in the bedroom when she sat at the foot of the bed and you kneeled in front of her. She’ll give you short choppy dialogue, so that you sound distant. She’ll tell the reader how you said it’s not that you didn’t love her but you couldn’t be with her and that it’s more your fault than hers, except she’ll tell it much more compellingly. She’ll describe how she choked on her tears and tried not to vomit right in front of you. And how she looked at the poster on the wall, the one she bought for you and how the different colors turned together when you spoke. She’ll say how the bed you had brought from your place felt like steel and she couldn’t move because her legs were welded there and she could only listen to you and watch the colors of the room turn gray.

And she’ll send you a manuscript and you’ll be on the couch where you both had sat and you’ll read every word. You’ll notice she didn’t tell things, like the time you had to see her because she had been sick with the flu and unable to get out of bed. And you ran from the campus to her apartment to make sure she was okay. You ran in the dark and there was so much snow that your legs began to freeze. And she won’t tell the reader how you didn’t have gloves or good shoes and you couldn’t see the patch of ice and you slipped. She won’t tell them you slipped. You twisted your ankle and your face landed in a snow bank. She won’t describe the taste in your mouth, how you pulled yourself up and limped up to her apartment. You used the key she’d just given you and she won’t say how nice it was being able to enter unannounced. And she won’t say how good it was to see her asleep and that you kissed her on the top of her head and then staggered home. She won’t move into your head and explain how much you really loved her. How you almost started to cry when you walked. You shook from the wind but felt safe because she was.

You’ll sit alone on that couch where you made love to her and you won’t move and the glass of whiskey on the table will not be touched. You won’t get up to turn up the lights and you won’t get up to use the restroom even though you have to. You’ll sit in the dim of your living room. And you will read.

Chicken or Egg?

rational argument

are any arguments rational?

the word "Philosophy" comes from the Greek φιλοσοφία [philosophia], which literally means "love of wisdom.”

aristotle's philosophy aims at the universal

my neighbor dressed up as aristotle in 7^th grade.

encompassed virtually all facets of intellectual inquiry.

plato's philosophy of Forms constitutes an objective moral world.

one who spends his life pondering questions that no one has asked, which have no answers, for use in debates of no meaning.

ignorant fool.

[empiricism, nihilism, subjectivism, constructivism, pantheism, intrinsicism, solipsism, objectivism, nominalism, conventionalism, materialism, accidentalism, irrationalism, emotionalism, representationalism, phenomenalism, agnosticism, intuitionism, theism, skepticism, esotericism, probabilism, rationalism, foundationalism, coherentism, atheism, relativism, mysticism, altruism, idealism, fatalism, hedonism, humanism, inhumanism, pragmatism, sensualism, utilitarianism, egoism, anarchism, animism, determinism, behaviorism, capitalism, transcendentalism, dualism, collectivism, cannibalism, axhilism, libertarianism, dogmatism, egalitarianism, immoralism, individualism, existentialism, interpretevism, logicism, meliorism, multiculturalism, reductionism, secularism, socialism, stoicism, and aestheticism.]

fire. earth. water. air. aether.

Thriller or Man in the Mirror?

Earlier yesterday, I was downloading some of Michael Jackson's greatest hits. I can't tell you why because I don't even know the reason, I just had the urge to listen to some of his songs. While I was looking up lyrics to one, I came across a site which claimed that MJ had written poetry. This seemed a bit odd to me as I never pictured him as the poet. Then I began to think about how each of his songs could be seen as a poem.

On this site was an article discussing the this poem, trying to figure out what meaning it had behind it. There were two different ways to look at it, the poem stated. One being sentimental and calming. The other was a bit perverse. Although we are aware of Michael Jackson's past, isn't it possible to look at something he wrote without making it sexual? Or is that what he intended? I'll let you make the decision.

Children of the world, we'll do it We'll meet on endless shores Making sandcastles and floating our boats While people fight and defend their point of view Forever putting on masks that are new We'll swing the tide of time and do it.

Children of the world, we'll do it With song and dance and innocent bliss And the soft caress of a loving kiss We'll do it.

While traders trade and haggle their price

And politicians try so hard to be nice

We'll meet on endless shores and floating our boats We'll do it.

While lawyers argue and doctors treat Stockbrokers quote the price on meat While preachers preach and ring the bell Carpetbaggers with something to sell We'll sing and dance in innocent bliss With the soft caress of a loving kiss We'll do it. Meeting on endless shores Making sandcastles and floating our boats We'll do it.

We'll ride the rainbow, a cloud, a storm Flying in the wind, we'll change our form We'll reach the stars, embrace the moon We'll break the barrier and be there soon

While architects plan their buildings high And trade unions raise their hue and cry While boardroom squabbles generate heat And in secret places dealers meet

We'll sing and dance in innocent bliss And the soft caress of a loving kiss We'll do it.

While philosophers grapple and continue to tackle Endless dilemmas of body and mind Physicists wander, continue to ponder Perennial questions of space and time Archeologists survey, continue to dig Bygone treasures small and big

Psychologists probe, analyze the tears Of hysterical notions, phobias, fears

While priests take confessions In a serious session And people struggle In the hustle and bustle In the noise and din On the meaning of sin We'll touch the stars, embrace the moon Break the barrier, arrive there soon Ride the rainbow, the cloud, the storm Flying in the wind, changing our form

Children of the world, we'll do it With song and dance and innocent bliss The soft caress of a loving kiss We'll do it.