A Bit of Prose

Well, it's been quite a while since my last post, so I thought I'd write something up since I have some free time today. Not too much, but, you know, just a little update and such. :-] 


I've just been reading about Søren Kierkegaard in my history book, and he's actually quite fascinating. He pioneered the concept that faith is beyond reason, and he also wrote/said a few fairly magnificent quotes. I compiled my favorites, as taken from Wikiquotes. ^_^

What is Love? Baby, Don't Hurt Me!

     As obviously silly as the title to this post is, I felt it was fitting considering the topic I wanted to ramble on about. But first! A bit of an update: Life is good, but confusing. I'm still learning to let God be God and not try to take things into my own hands all the time. I'm learning to listen and take advice from others. I'm learning to have faith and not fear. On a lighter note, I recently finished the most difficult cake I've ever decorated (pictures will be up in a later post) and I've been doing quite a bit of school work and some random writing. :-] Now, on to what I really wanted to talk about!


     [Disclaimer: I'm not aiming this at anyone. Promise. I started thinking about this particular subject because of another person, but what I've written below is basically just my musings and it's not intended to be anything more than something interesting to read and discuss. However, if you feel like God is speaking to you through what I say, I just want to make it clear that it's not me and I'm not doing it on purpose. :-P Also, these are MY OPINIONS. Some of the stuff I say is fact, but the conclusions I draw from it are my own, and I don't mean to offend anyone!]


     Something that has been at the forefront of my mind recently has been emotions. Specifically, love, but emotions in general. People are emotional beings. And sometimes those emotions hurt. So some of us try to deal with the pain and move on, and others try to remove the cause. "Love hurts," they rationalize, "so why should I love?" I guess on the surface it makes sense, but as I was contemplating the idea, it started to seem less and less logical. Of course, I'm all for suppressing--actually, I think controlling would be a better word there--I'm all for controlling certain emotions: anger, for example, excessive self-pity, pride, etc. There are certainly emotions that I could do without completely, like greed and lust. But almost all of these, in moderation and in the right application, are useful emotions. Pride in a job well-done, as long as you don't let it go to your head, and desire to provide the best that you can for your family, if you say greed and desire are similar, and righteous anger, which is, obviously, righteous, and that amazing, beautiful 'lust' that a man has for his wife, which isn't really lust, but it sort of is, only it's really more like a different kind of lust, which just goes to show that it's the excess and misuse of these emotions that really gets you in trouble. [That is probably the longest sentence I've ever written, and for some reason it reminds me of C. S. Lewis...] Back to my original point: Love hurts, so why should I love? There are several responses that I've come up with, so that's what I'm going to write about.

Total Eclipse of the Heart

I wrote a poem. Shocker. Actually, what is shocking is that 1) it doesn't reflect my emotions properly and 2) the subject is completely different than anything I've written about before. It's a tad confusing, mostly for me, but probably for you, too. That's okay, though. :-] Here it is:

“Your Voice Would Make a Good Narration for My Thoughts”

Sarah Kittell – 10/08/10

The Doctor had called me from inside his TARDIS,

So he and a dalek could come ‘round for tea,

But I was distracted by deep Irish accents,

And all that I got was his voicemail at three.

A penny for your thoughts and I’ll put my two cents in,

I’m wasting my money, ‘cause I don’t have a wish.

Keyboards are pounding out songs in my cranium,

BJ and Ben and some guy I don’t know,

A personal concert to narrate my soundtrack,

And front-row-seat tickets to all of their shows.

I feel sort of odd, ‘cause I don’t even know you,

I’m writing a poem for only two calls.

If you don’t understand: 42 and a towel—

I’m leaving before I can like you at all.

A penny for your thoughts and I’ll put my two cents in,

I’m wasting my money, ‘cause I don’t have a wish.

---

Yes, I did include multiple sci-fi references in it. Yes, it is awesome because of that. XD 

On another note, I've been finding it difficult to give God complete control of my life. I guess it's good that I recognize that, so I can work on it... But it's a little frustrating. Several of my friends have revealed problems or heartaches in their lives, and I keep wanting to just be able to go in and fix all of their problems. Never mind that I have a million and one problems of my own to fix. **sigh** But I'll get there eventually. I just need to keep giving it back to YHWH, every day, every day, every day. :-] He's really all I need. <3 Now to convince my heart that men aren't what I need and I'll be good. Kinda hard when I finally meet someone who seems right. **sigh** Again. More sighs. lol ARGH! MEN! Geez! Ugh. Ok. I'm gonna stop now.

The game.

Love and hugs,

Sarah

XD

An Old English Poem

Seems like all I have time for these days is posting interesting school assignments... This one is an original poem translated, to the best of my abilities, into Old English. Of course, Old English is so different from Modern English that I have no idea what the translation of my poem really says. I have no clue if the grammar is correct, if I conjugated the verbs in the right way, or anything like that. The only online places I could find for translating Modern English into Old English would only translate one word at a time, so I couldn't input a block of text, e.g. my poem, and have it translate that. I could only put in one word and translate that, and then figure out if I needed strong or weak, masculine or feminine, singular or plural, etc. etc. etc. So it was a bit more difficult than I imagined. But here it is! Enjoy! :-]

(Addendum: I inserted a 'bridge' of sorts for the benefit of a friend, who wants to try and turn it into a song. It has not been translated.)
(Another Addendum: Here is the finished song, as sung and played by Devin Dennis. ^^, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oN77edbcRY )

“Treachery/Love”

Sarah Kittell – 09/22/10

Sunny day and shades of gray,

Searching for the words to say,

Inside my head, the things I said

Are chasing all my thoughts away.

I waited for the slamming door

To shake me to my very core,

For shouted knives and broken lives

To leave me crying on the floor.

But you walked in, ignored my sin,

Brushed my tears off with a grin,

Closed your eyes and kissed the lies

Still warm from kissing foreign skin.

Bridge:
The heart has its reasons that reason can’t see,
You had every right to get up and leave,
And yet here you are and here you will stay,
The angel I love and the man I betrayed.

“Belæwung/Bróðorlufu”

Sarah Kittell – 09/22/10

Sigelbeorht dæg ond heolstorsceadwas sylfum deorcegræg,

Árásaende for þá cwideas æt ácwiðean,

Innoþ min héafod, þá þing ic geácweden

Béon ádrífende á min bréosthord áflíegung.

Ic geábiden for þæt bedende dor

Æt ábifan mec æt min midde,

For gecealled cnífas ond geábrocen æ

Æt anforlæteeþ mec blægettende on séo flór.

Ac ðu gegangen beinnan, geforgiefen min bealudæd,

Aswápan þá hléordropan on min andwlita,

Gebehliden úre angnereas ond gecossed þá léasspell

Þágíet wirman fram cossende wéales scinnen.

An Autobiography

Well, I have another school assignment to share. I had to write an autobiography. And here it is. Enjoy!

Two ‘T’s and Two ‘L’s:

The (Abridged) Autobiography of Sarah Kittell

                Some want to live within the sound of church or chapel bell; I want to run a rescue shop within a yard of hell. – C. T. Studd

                At seventeen and a half years of age, it is practically impossible to write a comprehensive autobiographical account of one’s life. This is due in part to one’s generally not having lived quite long enough to have accomplished anything worth writing about—unless one is Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, in which case such a tome would most likely be far over-due by the age of 13. But I am not Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and as such, I do not have much to say on the subject of my life. Therefore, what little I do have to say, I will attempt to say in such a manner as to be entertaining and, hopefully, somewhat comedic.

Inspiration

     I started school up about a month ago, hence the lack of recent blog posts. I really did mean to post something shortly after the beginning of the school year, but... Obviously, that didn't happen. So here I am, with a new blog post, 2 days into September and already a month into my final year of high school.
     In sharp contrast to last year at MAP, this year I am thoroughly enjoying my school work, classes, teachers, etc. These are my classes, for those who are interested: Honors British Literature, Language Arts, Honors European History, Rhetoric, Geometry, Portfolio, Spanish II, and Anatomy & Physiology. British Lit., L.A., and A&P are probably my favorite so far, but other than Portfolio, which is a whole lot of work for a very short class that I won't get much credit for, I'm really loving all my classes right now. I'm reading Beowulf for British Lit., I have a coloring book for Anatomy & Physiology, I'm writing a play for Language Arts, reading C. S. Lewis for Rhetoric... It's pretty much awesome. :-]

     Also, I have a little something to make up for the blog post dry spell! Last week's L.A. assignment was to keep a journal for five days on paper bags, using whatever was inside each bag for inspiration. I did. And fueled by my desire to turn absolutely everything possible into an art project, I present to you my Paper Bag Journals. :-D

Day 1 - Inspiration: A birthday candle and a yellow foam animal capsule.

08/26/10

     I got one of those little plastic capsules today; the kind you dissolve in water and then the little foam animal swells up from the water. I've never tried it before, and I must say, I was somewhat disappointed in the results. I think it's supposed to be a sheep, but I'm really not sure. Perhaps a cow?

     On a different note, I've gotten over my eye infection and can once again see properly. Yay! Also, I've been helping Jessi out with her Chemistry homework, which isn't actually as bad as I thought it would be, considering how much I hated it last year.

     I really want a typewriter. I've found a few on eBay that I particularly like, but as I know next to nothing about antique typewriters, I'm not sure about making a purchase. Hopefully, I'll be able to get enough information to buy a working, 1960s or older typewriter, and relatively soon.

Words.

More words.

S  p  r  e  a  d  i  n  g

from one to the next.

Disregarding

TRUTH. FICTION. WISDOM.

Fly------------------------------------------------------>like birds.

whispered, SHOUTED,

gone.

OuT oF 

cOnTrOl.

From loose matches to blazing

forest. Passive aggression.

                    Where's the water?

gone.

Refrigerator Poetry

So, today's post is just some fun poetry stuff. Nothing deep, no big updates on my life or anything like that, though I'm sure another post will soon be forthcoming for all you stalkers out there who like to keep up with what I eat for breakfast. ;-P

Awhile back, a friend of mine gave me a set of refrigerator word magnets, all made up of words from Shakespeare. I decided to create a challenge for myself: Write poetry using only the words provided. The result is some interesting, albeit somewhat oddly worded, free verse poetry currently displayed on my fridge. All poetry is by me except the second line in "Shakespeare I", which appeared on the fridge while I was away, and I'm not sure which family member is responsible for it, but I liked it, so I left it there.

Unfortunately, there's no punctuation included in the set, other than one lone exclamation point that I found, so I'll post each poem's picture individually, followed by the written version with punctuation.