andave's place

Lawrence Durrell, in case you were wondering . I've been reading Modern British Poetry, an anthology of poems, and found him in there. I read one of the poems I found in there aloud for my theater class today, Strange Meeting by Wilfred Owen, and, well, as Anza would say, it was an epic fail. Once I finished this fantastic poem I got a sort of confuzzled clapping and a collective "hunh?" All of them got a little confused. I consoled Owen when I was waiting for my parents to come, patting the book reassuringly. "It was a good shot," I told him

Strange Meeting ~Wilfred Owen
It seemed that out of battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which titanic wars had groined.

Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall,-
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.

With a thousand pains that vision's face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
"Strange friend," I said, "here is no cause to mourn."
"None," said that other, "save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also, I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something had been left,
Which must die now I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled,
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery,
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels,
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.
I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now . . ."

I'm so tired! Senior year has probably been the most stressful year yet - not because the stuff has been necessarily difficult but because there's so much of it!!

The semester started (two whole weeks ago and it feels like yesterday ) and my schedule has been like this:
Sunday: church
Monday: babysitting till noon every other Monday, math class at the local college in the evening.
Tuesday: theater class in the morning, Bible study at night.
Wednesday: babysitting till noon, math class in the evening.
Thursday: theater class in the morning, tutoring in the afternoon.
Fridays: babysitting.

That's just the fundamentals.

PHC stuff is still going on - we're wrapping up everything. I'll be visiting there in March. My Mom told me that the literature professor at PHC called while I was at junior college to congratulate me and ask if I had any questions...

Then there's been doctor/dentist/optometrist appointments, a flush of them lately. I'm still sick - I have FOUR cavities, even though I take care of my teeth - and I wear glasses.
The weird thing is, Bullet doesn't take care of her teeth...
And has NO cavities. I'm insanely jealous.

On principle, I HATE dentists, doctors, and optometrists. It's irrational - we've got a great dentist, doctor, etc...but since I was little I get sooo nervous going to the doctor. I think it's the stigma of having a dentist look at you and say condescendingly "you have cavities!!"

As I was laying head over heels on the ominous dentist's chair I was counseling myself to take it philosophically.

Philosophically my foot.
I was head over heels in a sterilized white room with two people sticking four hands and four tools into my mouth. Philosophy has NO place in dentistry.