Good Old Golden Rule Days.

Hi! Well, I am back at Belmont now with a new semester about to begin. I am so, so very excited about starting classes. I love being in school. Which perhaps makes me a dork.
So, Here's my schedule. For free and everything.

Monday.
9-9:50. Math.
1-1:50. World Religions.
2-2:50. British Lit.

Tuesday.
9:30-10:50. Math.
11-12:15. Ancient World.
12:30-1:45. Theories of Writing.

Wednesday.
9-9:50. Math.
11-11:50. Ancient World.
1-1:50. World Religions.
2-2:50. British Lit.

Thursday.
11-12:15. Ancient World.
12:30-1:45. Theories of Writing.

Friday.
9-9:50. Math.
11-11:50. Ancient World.
1-1:50. World Religions.
2-2:50. British Lit.

Boom Shacka Lacka.

And We'll Talk in Present Tenses.

I've been thinking about that one Joni Mitchell song, Chelsea Morning a lot lately. Particularly because of the line that is also the title of this here blog.
Here's another bit of that song that tells me how I feel.
"Oh, won't you stay? We'll put on the day, and we'll wear it til the night comes."


So, subject change.
I'm watching a television program called Sister Wives. It is making me want to be physically sick. It is about four women who are married to the same man. They sit there and talk about their problems and their insecurities. They fault themselves on their jealousy issues. They are all married to one man. The jealousy issues are not the problem, perhaps the sanity issues. I just don't understand these people. There's no way to deepen your insecurities like, oh, I don't know, letting your husband marry three other women.
Wait--this just in. The man just said it would be vulgar were the first wife to have another husband.

Also:
There was a commercial for a metal detector. The man said, "My wife always said I should get a hobby. She's proud of the weight I've lost, but she's really proud of this." He then proceeded to display a totally awesome ring that he was sweet enough to dig out of the ground for his almost certainly lovely wife. Cool. Weight loss and love. All in one. Score.

Maybe this is how I feel:

This One's for Free.

I've noticed lately that one of my bigger interests is bookshelves.

My Christmas Gift to the Internets.

I had my wisdom out this week. I'm a teense swollen.

I'm sore, and I keep throwing up.

But it's not so bad.

Merry Christmas!

(That is really a real me when I was a baby.)

You're the Prickliest Pear.

This. Is. Incredible.
Ivory Road.
King Charles.
Please look at the lyrics.
Here are a few:
You're my mind's rest
You're the strings on my guitar
You're the wax in my moustache
The keys to my car.
...
And I know that you glow
From the inside out
You can keep it for yourself
And I'll go without.
...
Well you're the Oscar Wilde short stories in my bookcase
You're positively 4th street isolated in my itunes
You're the word in the dictionary that I can't spell
Can't describe, can't put in a sentence but use all the time.
...
Your own pair of trousers look better on me
The boots of spanish leather
And the bottom of the sea
Every symbol of love that doesn't relate to a meaning
Every feeling, every sensation
Only real when I'm dreaming.
...
I'm the elephant in the circus
Oh, you're my trainer
You'd never let me go
But if you did I would stay here
In love there is freedom
But it must be returned
There must be sacrifice
Love must be learnt.

A Suggestion.

Hey. Um, go read this beautiful beauty of a blog post. Feel it.
It touched me.
well, bless my soul.
That there's the link, pookie pie.

Even Though We Know It's Not.

I know you almost definitely have read this quote before, but I had, too. Let it rock your world for a minute, baby doll.
"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing. If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage. [Here's the kicker.] I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find until after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of my life to press on to that other country and to help others do the same."
C.S. Lewis.

I've been listening to Wild Sweet Orange a lot lately. It's been good...
"Oh my God, is this really what You want? Would You tell us if it's not? And could You rewrite the plot, and come and get us? Cause we can't stop doing what we think we want, even though we know it's not. This place is merely a subplot. Come and get us."


See?