Fri, 27 January, 2023
6:34 p.m.
I was thinking about what kind of a person I want to be in my life - knowing full well that what my opinions on the matter now are will undergo some, I should think, huge alterations over time - and figured that I truly want to be a protector. I’m not talking about protecting lives. No. I’m talking about a different sort of protection. I wanna be a protector of my beloved’s solitude. That said, I am only to talk to them if need be. I don’t wanna bother them with a bunch of rubbish.
I wrote this a month ago, and I don’t know why but I wanted to share it. Here.
Out, out… By Robert Frost
The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside him in her apron
To tell them ‘Supper.’ At the word, the saw,
As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap—
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all—
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart—
He saw all spoiled. ‘Don’t let him cut my hand off—
The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!’
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
P.S. No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the dead, turned to their affairs.
Richard Cory by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
A Thing I Have Learned
(Written By A Nobody Who Has Been Everybody)
It is easy to mourn the lives we aren’t living.
Easy to wish we’d developed other talents, said yes to different offers.
Easy to wish we’d worked harder, loved better, handled our finances more astutely, been more popular, stayed in the band, gone to Australia, said yes to the coffee or done more bloody yoga.
It takes no effort to miss the friends we didn’t make and the work we didn’t do and the people we didn’t marry and the children we didn’t have.
It is not difficult to see yourself through the lens of other people, and to wish you were all the different kaleidoscopic versions of you they wanted you to be.
It is easy to regret, and keep regretting, ad infinitum, until our time runs out.
But it is not the lives we regret not living that are the real problem.
It is the regret itself.
It’s the regret that makes us shrivel and wither and feel like our own and other people’s worst enemy.
We can’t tell if any of those other versions would have been better or worse.
Those lives are happening, it is true, but you are happening as well, and that is the happening we have to focus on.
Of course, we can’t visit every place or meet every person or do every job, yet most of what we’d feel in any life is still available.
We don’t have to play every game to know what winning feels like.
We don’t have to hear every piece of music in the world to understand music.
We don’t have to have tried every variety of grape from every vineyard to know the pleasure of wine.
Love and laughter and fear and pain are universal currencies.
We just have to close our eyes and savour the taste of the drink in front of us and listen to the song as it plays.
We are as completely and utterly alive as we are in any other life and have access to the same emotional spectrum.
We only need to be one person.
We only need to feel one existence.
We don’t have to do everything in order to be everything, because we are already infinite.
While we are alive we always contain a future of multifarious possibility.
So let’s be kind to the people in our own existence.
Let’s occasionally look up from the spot in which we are because, wherever we happen to be standing, the sky above goes on for ever.
Yesterday I knew I had no future, and that it was impossible for me to accept my life as it is now.
And yet today, that same messy life seems full of hope.
Potential.
The impossible, I suppose, happens via living.
Will my life be miraculously free from pain, despair, grief, heartbreak, hardship, loneliness, depression?
No.
But do I want to live?
Yes.
Yes.
A thousand times, yes The Midnight Library by Matt Haig
Hi dear.
May I ask why you’re disappointed at being a girl?
Do you think this frustration is because of living in our country?
Maybe there are other reasons?
Sorry, I hope I didn’t bother you with my questions.
The thing that bugs me most about being a girl is how we are usually defined. I personally find it an insult that from an early age, girls are commented on their looks and not on their minds. Soon, they learn that in order to be accepted by society they aught to look good and not think good. I’m not saying that they aren’t encouraged to be smart. But, they’re not. Not really, at least. But the reason behind my expressing my frustration at being a girl was merely cuz I hate to be restricted in any way whatsoever. You see, I saw this documentary about this man that free soloing was the love of his life, and he was living his dream, like literally. I don’t care about free soloing but if I were less restricted, I’d be traveling now, alone. Or, be building my own little wooden hut so that I could live the way I wanted.
No. Don’t be cuz you didn’t. I’d be delighted, in fact, to have your company here.
Girls generally like being charm , it is in their nature, I have a little girl so I think i’m eligible to say so, and I believe we shouldn’t blame society for their comments. I can’t deny there are some exceptions though
I’m afraid I do not agree with you there. I don’t think it’s in our nature to care for our looks the way people usually tend to think of us. I believe the reason why we begin to care for our appearances from an early age has to do with the way we’re defined and accepted in and by society. Tell me, what’s the first thing that pops into your head when you first see a girl? Isn’t it her looks?
Well no matter what gender of the person i meet for the first time is, i know nothing about them but the things i see!
and i should admit i know nothing about science of deduction like Mr.Holms so how could i possibly know what is going on in there mind or what kind of people they are
True. And I think we all like beauty. Maybe girls are more sensitive to beauty than boys, like you said. But society nurtures that sensitivity by setting codes as to how women aught to be. It’s like saying that boys shouldn’t show their tender emotions cuz they’re men. And I think that’s insulting for it’s against individuality. Each of us is different. Also, I think so long as you’re human, and by human, I mean someone who’s compassionate and kind-hearted, it doesn’t matter how you look like or are.
I haven’t seen that series yet, so maybe a little bit of explanation about it wouldn’t go amiss, right?
this psychiatrist it goes like
psychiatrist: Wednesday, Part of the reason your parents sent you to “Nevermore”(it’s the name of a school) is so you could find your people.
Choosing a spouse is like choosing a book, maybe the cover design and good looks will attract your attention, but if you don’t have a good text, it will be difficult to finish it.
Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now by The Smiths (covered by Alicia Widar)
I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I’m miserable now
I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
And heaven knows I’m miserable now
In my life
Why do I give valuable time
To people who don’t care if I live or die?
Two lovers entwined pass me by
And heaven knows I’m miserable now
I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
And heaven knows I’m miserable now
In my life
Oh, why do I give valuable time
To people who don’t care if I live or die?
What she asked of me at the end of the day
Caligula would have blushed
“Oh, you’ve been in the house too long” she said
And I naturally fled
In my life
Why do I smile
At people who I’d much rather kick in the eye?
I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I’m miserable now
“Oh, you’ve been in the house too long” she said
And I naturally fled
In my life
Oh, why do I give valuable time
To people who don’t care if I live or die?
P.S. There’s sth about her and the way she songs this song that…draws you in. By the bye, this is the link to her YouTube channel.
