I hate Tyra Banks with the heat of a thousand suns. Stupidest "role model" ever.

Well, so that is that. Now we must dismantle the tree,
Putting the decorations back into their cardboard boxes --
Some have got broken -- and carrying them up to the attic.
The holly and the mistletoe must be taken down and burnt,
And the children got ready for school. There are enough
Left-overs to do, warmed-up, for the rest of the week --
Not that we have much appetite, having drunk such a lot,
Stayed up so late, attempted -- quite unsuccessfully --
To love all of our relatives, and in general
Grossly overestimated our powers.
                                                                  Once again
As in previous years we have seen the actual Vision and failed
To do more than entertain it as an agreeable
Possibility, once again we have sent Him away,
Begging though to remain His disobedient servant,
The promising child who cannot keep His word for long.
The Christmas Feast is already a fading memory,
And already the mind begins to be vaguely aware
Of an unpleasant whiff of apprehension at the thought
Of Lent and Good Friday which cannot, after all, now
Be very far off.
                           But, for the time being, here we all are,
Back in the moderate Aristotelian city
Of darning and the Eight-Fifteen, where Euclid's geometry
And Newton's mechanics would account for our experience,
And the kitchen table exists because I scrub it.
It seems to have shrunk during the holidays. The streets
Are much narrower than we remembered; we had forgotten
The office was as depressing as this.
                                                                     To those who have seen
The Child, however dimly, however incredulously,
The Time Being is, in a sense, the most trying time of all.
For the innocent children who whispered so excitedly
Outside the locked door where they knew the presents to be
Grew up when it opened. Now, recollecting that moment
We can repress the joy, but the guilt remains conscious;
Remembering the stable where for once in our lives
Everything became a You and nothing was an It.
And craving the sensation but ignoring the cause,
We look round for something, no matter what, to inhibit
Our self-reflection, and the obvious thing for that purpose
Would be some great suffering. So, once we have met the Son,
We are tempted ever after to pray to the Father;
"Lead us into temptation and evil for our sake."

They will come, all right, don't worry; probably in a form
That we do not expect, and certainly with a force
More dreadful than we can imagine. In the meantime
There are bills to be paid, machines to keep in repair,
Irregular verbs to learn, the Time Being to redeem
From insignificance. The happy morning is over,
The night of agony still to come; the time is noon:
When the Spirit must practice his scales of rejoicing
Without even a hostile audience, and the Soul endure
A silence that is neither for nor against her faith
That God's Will will be done, That, in spite of her prayers,
God will cheat no one, not even the world of its triumph.

I'm recalling a poem given as an address by a late 19th Century poet at an eminent university's class reunion. I thought it was by Gerard Manley Hopkins, but my search of his canon thus far is failing to stir up the exact piece.

It's a wonderful ode to age not being a detriment to creative achievement, citing the octogenarian prowess of Classic writers as a reason to pursue great works one's whole life through.

Does this sound familiar to anyone?

They told me the things i needed to hear. It hurt, but i needed it.

 i hate being sick. it feels like i am dying or something. i want soup.

 You know that itch that you scratch that makes you quiver, break down and whine?

So, previously I've had LimeWire. Of course I frequent Pandora Radio.


Any suggestions? Something better?  

as if i needed one, finally a legitimate reason to fuck and drink all night.

Yelled at by biker in food line today. Post Christmas shopping must stress people out.

I won't write a review of this year.
Most of it: best to be forgotten.

"have you fucked yet?"

"Shut your dirty whore mouth, you invasive cunt."

...Oh, I wish.

oh dear god i am so sick of this username.
most idiotic thing.
new account?

I have only myself to blame
As I still can't learn again
To love me

I wish I could drink like a lady,
I can take one or two at the most.
Three and I'm under the table,
Four and I'm under the host.

Today I realised you can't solve all my problems.
Today you made me feel boring.

I'm housesitting right now at an elderly apartment complex. A few days ago at about 7am, I was carrying in my suicase, and a few other things after spending Christmas at my house. One of the men that lived there saw me through his window and came to open the door for me,(which you have to open with a key) saying "Its way too early to be carrying that much stuff." He made me smile. :]

 I miss my puppy SO much. I can't stop crying. Articulate, i need a lift :(

It took so much effort not to make an effort.
Oh, what a flawless design.