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.

Who will attend my funeral?

[Untitled]

DOROTHEA GROSSMAN

It occurs to me that,

when I die,

they might find the necklace

I dropped behind the bed

and wonder

how long it was there,

and whether I’d missed it.

But will they care

about my favorite color,

my long-range plans,

or my habit of searching myself

for signs of rust?

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.

National Poetry Month

April is National Poetry Month...

open a poetry book or write your own poem!

mickey ears, screaming children & 10,000 suitcases

It's hard to believe that my last Spring Break has come to an end. I have six weeks left of college then it's off to the real world. Don't you dare ask me what my plan is when May comes because I have no idea!

I'm currently sitting in the Orlando airport waiting for my flight. I've been here for five hours already because I missed my flight this morning and the next one doesn't come till late tonight. All this time has forced me to be an avid people-watcher. I'm surrounded by Disney souvenirs, screaming babies, women who can't walk in their high heels, lost tourists, McDonalds, long lines coming out of the bathrooms and my delicious icy cold Coke. All this people watching made me wonder if any poets had used their observations as inspriation for their poems. I did a few searches online and came upon a few poems which brightened my day!

People Watching

by Debby Peebles

I'm watching the people,
who are watching their steps.
As they walk through life's days
and they watch other people passing them by,
like the sunlight and the shadows,
of another passing day.

I wonder, as watch, as the people move by,
as they wander away from me
and they move through their lives,
on their way to a home?
Or a family?
Or nowhere,
to nothing?

And as I watch and I wonder,
where they've come from and where
do they go.
Do they go there alone or into the arms
and the bossoms of ones who they love.
As watch and I wonder,
on my seat, all alone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

People Watching

by Emma Feneley

You can read from his hands he's an artist,
Though in hers there's a lack of self pride,
Just to catch a smile as it falters
Is to gaze on whatever they hide.

Their eyes become novels of feeling,
But it's laughter that voices the soul
And the child within seems to surface
With troubles they think they control.

A shame is to glance at their company,
To watch Their watch them

quarter pounder, big mac & filet-o-fish

you wouldn't think that McDonalds would incorporate poetry into their advertisements, but this proves us wrong.

lady gaga

After looking through different blogs this morning, I came across this interesting post and thought I'd share it with you. This person has taken it upon himself to compare Lady Gaga's Bad Romance with Aase Berg's With Deer.

http://stevehalle.blogspot.com/2010/02/aase-bergs-with-deer-and-lady-gagas-bad.html

hodge-podge

your life in park

years spent waiting

to be

the "first true discoverer of a lunar."

"no one likes this story so I'll get to the point"

last time we talked

you asked me

"can we get rid of the magnetic field

and still separate the traffic lanes

for the electrons?"

i didn't answer.

"someone would

have the feeling

something

isn't quite right."

this is your fault

don't blame me

"why are we ashamed when someone hurts us?

because it marks us as valueless."

stop running

and turn,

look at what you're missing.

"however, such an effect is not robust,

as it depends on the matching between

the optical wavelength and the thickness of the coating."

i've been told that when people pursue enough,

they succeed.

"nobody has ever been so happy"

-Louise Lloyd Owen

(pastiche of Kate Greenstreet's "Case Sensitive" and excerpts from Physics Today Magazine)

Call me old fashioned...

Since it's Valentines Day, I thought it would be appropriate to research romantic poets and poems today. I went downstairs to the lower level of the library and found a book called Love Letters of Famous Poets and Novelists. There's a section that features love letters from the romantic poet, John Keats. As soon as I started reading these letters, I began to think about how much things have changed since the 1800's. No one writes love letters anymore. Instead, our society texts, emails or writes comments on Facebook walls which isn't half as romantic as a handwritten letter. What happened to sitting down with a pen in hand, pouring your heart and soul out on a piece of paper? Call me old fashioned, but there's something about a love letter that's much more romantic than a Facebook message.

Love Letters of Keats

To Fanny Brawne

My Dearest Lady,

I am so glad that I had not an opportunity of sending off a letter which I wrote for you on Tuesday night-'twas too much like one out of Rousseau's "Heloise." I am more reasonable this morning. The morning is the only proper time for me to write to a beautiful girl who I love so much: for at night, when the lonely day has closed, and the lonely, silent, unmusical Chamber is waiting to receive me as into a sepulcher, then believe me my passion gets entirely the sway, then I would not have you see those rhapsodies which I once thought it impossible I should ever give way to, and which I have often laughed at in another, for fear you should (think me) either too unhappy or perhaps a little mad....though I could centre my happiness in you, I cannot expect to engross your heart so entirely-indeed if I thought you felt as much for me as I do for you at this moment, I do not think I could restrain myself from seeing you again tomorrow for the delight of one embrace. But no-I must live upon hope and Chance. In case of the worst that can happen, I shall still love you-but what hatred shall I have for another!

Ever yours, my love.

John Keats

no more teasing, i promise.

i have teased my best friend, randy, for years about his semi-dyslexic ways. he'll mix up words in sentences or not be able to read a number without switching two variables. my parents always told me that teasing wasn't right and it would eventually come back to bit me in the butt. well, it has.

when i began to make this blog, i asked him what i should name it. i, myself, spent hours thinking about different fun names, but nothing ever lit that spark. i wanted something quirky and different, without too much meaning. to my surprise, i didn't get one idea. I got ten. each was goofy and quirky, just as i had asked. he had taken words and mixed them up, forgetting about the "normal" structure of them. my favorite? downupside cakes. (he used to call them that as a kid because he couldn't get the words in the right order)

so...as my apology for all those years of teasing (you always put up with it so well) i dedicate this blog post to you. comment all you want, with your fun and quirky phrases.

One of my classes this semester focuses on philosophy of the mind. I've taken several different philosophy classes in the past three years, but this one stands out from the rest. Instead of being the talkative student that I usually am, I find myself often being challenged by the daily topics. Today's topic? Poets & their connection to philosophy of the mind. Finally! I had something that I could talk about. After much discussion, my professor said something that stuck with me.

"Why is poetry good and interesting? What makes a poet good, better than the rest? Good poetry, as well as good poets, have the ability to manipulate words/language unlike anyone else."

pamela anderson, trident gum and venice beach.

On Monday mornings, I come to the library by 9am with an iced vanilla latte in hand. For the first hour, it's normal to see me spending more time on Facebook then studying. I look through pictures from the weekend's events while talking to the people sitting around me. Today is different. I decided to sit alone, with my headphones in so people wouldn't distract me. Why? Well, I have found something that is almost as addicting as Facebook. It's pages are full of both inspiration and honesty. It's small size and intriguing cover artwork draw me in almost immediately.

What is this fantastic piece that I am raving about? Poetry Magazine

I just came across one while looking through the journals upstairs. One of the poems inside caught my eye instantly. Titled, "In the Loop", (http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=238616) this poem talks about the Virginia Tech Shootings which took place almost three years ago. The poet, Bob Hicok, is a professor at VT which immediately gives the poem a sense of reality and rawness. The lines say so much about the horrible shootings and the effects they had on the VT community.

To say that this poem didn't inspire me would be a lie. My Professor has said over and over again to write about modern day things and not limit our poetry to the standards subjects of love, loss and pain. At first, the idea of writing about Jersey Shore, the devastation in Haiti or Facebook seemed childish. I've always thought poetry should be about your feelings, without any references to pop culture. This Virginia Tech poem proved me wrong. Hicok took a modern day event and made it personal. My goal? to do the same.

topics I wish to write about in the future: pamela anderson, MTV spring break, mcdonalds, OPI nailpolish, sorority life, grey's anatomy, uggs, starbucks, iphones/blackberry, runway fashion, perez hilton, twitter, jcrew, credit cards, vera bradley, trident gum and venice beach.

Dear Sir Francis Osbert Sacheverell Sitwell,

A few weeks ago, a good friend of mine, Christian Keck, recommended I read your poetry. After studying abroad in Switzerland and finding a book of yours while traveling, he claimed he was an immediate fan. He went on to say that he had read articles about you, claiming you were a aristocratic snob, who looked down on the middle class. He also mentioned that you were from England, which instantly intrigued me as I am half British myself. I instantly logged onto my computer and in less than five minutes, I was full immersed in Wikipedia's version of your biography. I found it fascinating that you went to Lundgrove School then Eton. I found it even more fascinating that you failed the entry exam to Sandhurst...not once, but twice. The biography went on to say that you had written in the Who's Who (annual British publication of biographies of about 30,000 living notable Britons) that you were "educated during the holidays from Eton." I have to admit that I did laugh as that's quite a cheeky statement to say Sir Francis.

After researching you over the course of a few days, I found a quote of yours which seems to be your life's thesis.

"I have always said that if I were a rich man, I would employ a professional praiser."

-Osbert Sitwell

Although Christian and all the online biographies I could find portrayed you as a talented snob, there is something about you that really intrigues me. The way you look down on people may absolutely drive me insane, but your work is something that does deserved to be praised. I haven't finished my research about you Sir Francis, that I can promise you.

Sincerely,

Louise Lloyd Owen

gouda, feta & stinking bishop

In my recent poetry explorations, I've come across some fantastic quotes:

I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.
-Carl Sandburg

Who can tell the dancer from the dance?

-William Butler Yeats

The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.

-Gilbert K. Chesterton

Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting.

-Robert Frost

You can't write poetry on the computer.

-Quentin Tarantino

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
-Robert Frost

"Therefore" is a word the poet must not know.

-Andre Gide

naked baseball

As I start this blog for my Poetry Senior Seminar, I feel quite apprehensive. Poetry is something that both scares and excites me, like the feeling of going on one of the exhilarating rides at Disney. The thought of having an unknown number of random people reading this makes me 10x more nervous than I get when we workshop poems in class. I sit there on my workshop days, waiting for my chance up at the plate. Once it's my turn, I get up to bat, trying to reassure myself that my poem isn't the worst in the class. I swing and miss. They hate the middle stanza's. I'm telling, not showing. I swing again and miss. I didn't let the true character shine within the lines. I swing one last time, making it to first base. They like the last line.

I imagine this blog as the World Series baseball games. Not only are there the people in the stands staring at you, there are millions of others, all across the world, sitting in front of their 40" tv screens, waiting in anticipation for you to step up to bat. I imagine this blog as complete exposure of myself to to the world, like I'm getting up to bat at the World Series game completely naked.

Quite honestly, I never thought I would start a blog. I have made fun of these things for years, claiming that you had no friends to write in one of these. Over the past few days, I've realized that I was more than wrong. After recently researching blogs, I have found some that I've become almost addicted to, going online at different points in the day to check their updates. Some have even made it to the ranks of being bookmarked along with CNN,the College's website and JCrew. I have no idea what it is exactly that makes me keep going back for more but my eyes are instantly drawn in to both the images and text. I hope that someone's eyes are drawn into my blog, although I question if I have anything that interesting to say. I'm going to take my chances though. I'm taking a breath and stepping up to the plate... completely naked.