Wednesday, March 24, 2004

the following was written by www.essaygenerator.com. the opinions expressed therin are not endorsed by me. or your mom. of course, now I have to resist the temptation to use this for my poli. sci. essay...

I shall now enrich your life by sharing with you about your mom. There are many factors which influenced the development of your mom. While it is becoming a hot topic for debate, there are just not enough blues songs written about your mom. It is estimated that that your mom is thought about eight times every day by the over 50, many of whom blame the influence of television. In the light of this I will break down the issues in order to give each of them the thought that they fully deserve

Social Factors

Society begins and ends with your mom. When The Tygers of Pan Tang sang 'It's lonely at the top. Everybody's trying to do you in' [1] , they created a monster which society has been attempting to tame ever since. Spanning divides such as class, race and uglyness, your mom bravely illustrates what we are most afraid of, what we all know deep down in our hearts.

Status, Security, Fame - your mom, all revolve around this 'golden fleece'. Just as a dog will return to its own sick, society will return to your mom, again and again.

Economic Factors

We no longer live in a world which barters 'I'll give you three cows for that hat, it’s lovely.' Our existance is a generation which cries 'Hat - $20.' We will primarily be focusing on the Greek-Roman model, a lovely model.

(insert mom graph)

There are a number of reasons which may be attributed to this unquestionable correlation. Even a child could work out that inflation plays in increasingly important role in the market economy. A sharp down turn in middle class investment may lead to changes in the market.

Political Factors

No man is an island, but what of politics? Contrasting the numerous political activists campaigning for the interests of your mom can be like looking at the vote of the man in the street with that of one more accustomed to your mom.

Take a moment to consider the words of a legend in their own life time, Achilles H. Amster 'You can lead a horse to water, big deal.' [2] This clearly illustrates the primary concern of those involved with your mom. Perhaps the word which sums up the importance of your mom to politics is 'participation'.

Where do we go from here? Only time will tell.

Conclusion

In my opinion your mom must not be allowed to get in the way of the bigger question: why are we here? Putting this aside its of great importance. It enlightens our daily lives, invades where necessary, though your mom brings with it obvious difficulties, it is truly your mom.

The final say goes to the award winning Leonardo Beckham: 'You win some, you loose some, but your mom wins most often.' [3]


[1] Tygers of Pang Tang - The Cage - 1982 MCR Records

[2] Amster - The Popular Vote - 2002 Worldwide Publishing

[3] It Magazine - Issue 302 - Spam Media Group

(credit goes to mmccain for the link)

Friday, March 19, 2004

Always more to learn I suppose. "snuck" isn't a word, you *don't* pronounce the "t" in "often", it's "spit and image" (not "spittin' image"), and when you go see the animals, you're actually going to the [zo], not the [zu]. However, they're willing to let that last one go... just not in "zoology".
YourDictionary.com's 100 Most Often Mispronounced Words and Phrases in English
It's true too. The "revelant/relevant", "doggy dog world/dog-eat-dog world", and "For all intensive purposes/For all intents and purposes" conversations have come up several times recently. Save yourself some embarrasment and check it out now... not that you wouuld ever correct your friends...

And are you really sure you know whether it's "'erb" or "herb"?

(postscript: I should probably wax philosophical about how English is a living language and who really knows anyway and if it ain't broke don't fix it versus I can't believe they're doing that and if it's wrong it's wrong and boy that sounds dumb, but I'm actually doing homework. Can't you tell? ;)
Hmm.... if this were a fridge-magnet set, what kind would it be? Spam Poetry
The ancient night and the unruly salt
beat at the walls of my house;
lonely is the shadow, the sky
by now is a beat of the ocean,
and sky and shadow explode
in the fray of unequal combat;
all night long they struggle,
nobody knows the weight
of the harsh clarity that will go on opening
like a languid fruit;
thus is born on the coast,
out of turbulent shadow, the hard dawn,
nibbled by the salt in movement,
swept up by the weight of night,
bloodstained in its marine crater.

(Pablo Neruda's "La Noche en Isla Negra". Alastair Reid translation)

Wednesday, March 10, 2004

Sick of school? Take some time off and play the only game that's never the same and always bizarre: the official rules of Calvinball.

Tuesday, March 09, 2004

Well, the information is now public domain: I got an acceptance letter from Queen's this morning. I applied there and at Memorial (St. John's, NFLD), so I'll probably wait for a yay/nay from Memorial before making any big decisions. Pretty darn exciting. Although I'm still considering sneaking my way onto the panel of judges over at Charlotte's outdoor job awards instead of turning pages and writing words next year :)

Oh, and mom, if you've recently come across this site, I... wanted it to be a surprise :)

Monday, March 01, 2004

...
Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.

The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I alone can contend against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.

You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Curl round me as though you are frightened.
Even so, a strange shadow once ran through your eyes.


Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
And even your breasts smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the grey light unwind in turning fans.

My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body,
Until I even believe that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
(from Pablo Neruda's "Juegas Todos Los Dias". Translated by W. S. Merwin)
(Tarn, Nathaniel. Neruda: Selected Poems. New York: Houghton Mifflin. 1970. 25.)