Ok, one more Kina..and back to Katelyn Autry.

Not bad...but remember this girl?

Well, she's still writing. Still love Incapable the best, but here's some new stuff:

Um. Wow. I really like Kateyln's facial expressions. Maybe not the words so much in this last song, but she looks like she's really feeling it.

Symposium

I'm mixed with a bunch of trembling, emotions that make me proclivitous; bending towards something, not quite sure what. I've been reading, "Symposium" by Plato lately, and it's really affecting me in a weird way. Symposium is about the definition of what Eros, or the God of Love, is, and what effect love has; basically, it's what a bunch of Greek philosophers (i.e. Sophists, War Heroes and Socrates) find the definition of love to be. Problem with this is, it makes me think too much of relationships, when I should be concentrating on my schoolwork. Since I am preternaturally a child when it comes to "romantic" (what a joke) relationships, I turn immediately to any music that makes me melancholy, and turn to female vocal artists(God, no wonder I love it so much).

It's also weird to know that I always seem to fall for a woman's voice before anything else. I don't remember what causes this for me. I don't recall any babysitter's voices I fell in love with as a child, and my mother and sister have voices like cackling witches, so I can rest assuredly (with a deep sigh of relief) that it's not Freudian. I like a woman's pitch, mind you; I haven't fallen for too many women who have high-pitched voices, so I don't like the sound of a girl, but I love the sound of a mature woman's voice. Kind of throaty, not masculine, just strong, feminine, assured, relaxed, totally unlike anything I have ever heard before.

This is a natural desire I am digging from my unconscious, I believe: not the naturally, self-destructive unconscious desire to allow control freaks to catch me. There is a control freak, I believe at work, who I am attracted to, and I am trying my best to veer as far as I can from her. I am not a person to be controlled; I am not a boy. I am someone who needs to be left alone until I am ready to be ready to grow up in order to learn how to care for people other than himself. I am not ready yet. Leave me a bit longer in the rotisserie, world. I do not wish to come out unbidden, and yet I bid myself, only.

Here you go (You knew the chick vocals would come, as my personal soothing prayer. You knew it would come. I can't explain it. I love it; maybe I'll put another Sarah Mac video here-God, I love her!).

Don't know her, but like her voice. Somebody sign her!

Perfect example of the sound that I love. I said goddamn, Sade!Huh, Taboo, yeah? Well, that's funny.

Ok, one more. I know it's overly melodramatic, but once again, I can't resist Sade. Whoever made her run out in that wedding dress IS A DAMN FOOL. Ok, no more Sade. I hope any male readers appreciate what I am doing here.

Ok, let's bring it back to something not quite as melodramatic.

Noone sexier than Sarah. Too bad she's married to that turtle of a husband. Do I sound jealous? I swear to God almighty, I find me a nerdy, guitar-playing girl with a voice like Dove Chocolate (like Sarah-silky smooth), and I AM DONE. Ok, a few more Sarah songs, and then you can go; you have to suffer my love for Sarah (since I first learned of her WAY BEFORE ANYONE ELSE MALE-should I be bragging, um?). Peace.

This song gets me. Was listening to it alot before I stopped using my iPod (got too busy to play with my iPod).

And now..for some covers of Sarah songs.

Wow-she's not bad!

To Those With Voices

To those with voices I adore effeminately:

To those with thoughts I adore, in Eros and especially, you,
who you are will you be, you
you you you you you-- (practice)

To those with voices I adore so often
with rambling sore fingers I catch your pitch
soundlessly watching the vizionary speeches, then
lost. Lost in the drinking eyes, the fever pitch,

which you "sent me in the far future", you cry,
without prior knowledge backwards, I run
stopping my progress with losing the freedom.
You know that I can't stop this feeling, undone,

so beat me out of it while you twist and mouth
the freeing word that forces tears from stone-
breaking ground that Eros gives us, all Southern
Comfort and imperfect, poor and alone.

So, Eros is the subject of this partial synesthesia?
Adding one beat, you lose the feature.




Felt compelled to write something. It's crap, but I'm out of practice.

Wow!

For 0nce, I am done with my Greek before the weekend starts. Amazing! I spend about 2-4 hours every day on Greek alone, making way for even my graduate school Spanish course. Taking a classical language is far more time-consuming than any other course I have ever taken. Now I have time for reorganizing, cleaning up my work table, and my fat Spanish research paper (at least the beginning of the research for it). Also time to play catch-up on any Italian workbook homework I may be missing.

As a graduate student, forget about having any freedoms, even during breaks. Your freedom is compromised for your personal interest in future studies, which may be worth it, depending on who you are. For me, academic advancement is liberating because it ties into everything I have wanted to do in my life. It helps with my self-confidence (although not with normal social interactions such as meeting new people outside of academia), and has all to do with my future. I miss the outside world sometimes, but I am doing well so far this semester.

Too much to do

Will post later. In the middle of a Spanish Renaissance Research Paper on Francisco de Quevedo.

Therdy-Deuce

Berfday went well. Saw lots of family, went trick or treating with nieces (called dolcetto e scherzetto in Italiano), didn't get any homework done, but went out with work friends to celebrate. Will do more celebrating next weekend and go dancing with some of them. Not bad for 32. Feel old, but not going to let it get me down. Have too much work to do.

San Juan de la Cruz

..I always felt that I would discover what religion means to me later on in life, but maybe I don't have that much time, since my belief in God has found me first. I have discovered, more articulately, what my belief in God is more akin to; I have in the past denoted it as Deistic after reading some excerpts from Benjamin Franklin. Perhaps a Deist is the right term for myself.

I haven't read enough on Deism, but I do know that God, to me, empowers us to do our very best in life, and entreats us to make our choices independently. That is what Benjamin Franklin believed Deism to be, and that is my standing definition as of now. I am not a Christian. I am Deistic by nature; I won't qualify it with saying I am a Deist just yet because I want to be sure.

I will not be labeled an Agnost because I've always believed that an agnost doesn't know what to believe in, or rather they simply don't know what to choose. I am not Agnostic because I am sure of what direction I am heading. I am not noncommittal. I am committed to believing in God. Just not the Christian or the Jewish or any other God than the one that is more transpersonal.

I label this post San Juan de la Cruz because he was a Spanish mystic who wrote beautiful poetry about his union with God in his mystical beliefs. I understand how he feels. Here is a poem for you to think about:

St. John of the Cross
On a dark night

On a dark night,
Kindled in love with yearnings
--oh, happy chance!--
I went forth without being observed,
My house being now at rest.

In darkness and secure,
By the secret ladder, disguised
--oh, happy chance!--
In darkness and in concealment,
My house being now at rest.

In the happy night,
In secret, when none saw me,
Nor I beheld aught,
Without light or guide,
save that which burned in my heart.

This light guided me
More surely than the light of noonday
To the place where he
(well I knew who!) was awaiting me
-- A place where none appeared.

Oh, night that guided me,
Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
Oh, night that joined
Beloved with lover,
Lover transformed in the Beloved!

Upon my flowery breast,
Kept wholly for himself alone,
There he stayed sleeping,
and I caressed him,
And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.

The breeze blew from the turret
As I parted his locks;
With his gentle hand
He wounded my neck
And caused all my senses to be suspended.

I remained, lost in oblivion;
My face I reclined on the Beloved.
All ceased and I abandoned myself,
Leaving my cares
forgotten among the lilies.

Here's the Spanish version, far more beautiful than the English (kinda clunky in English, but considered one of the most beautiful Spanish poems of all time--translate, goddamit!).

San Juan de la Cruz
En una noche oscura

En una noche oscura,
con ansias, en amores inflamada,
¡oh dichosa ventura!,
salí sin ser notada,
estando ya mi casa sosegada;

a escuras y segura
por la secreta escala, disfrazada,
¡oh dichosa ventura!,
a escuras y encelada,
estando ya mi casa sosegada;

en la noche dichosa,
en secreto, que naide me veía
ni yo miraba cisa,
sin otra luz y guía
sino la que en el corazón ardía.

Aquesta me guiaba
más cierto que la luz del mediodía
adonde me esperaba
quien yo bien me sabía
en parte donde naide parecía.

¡Oh noche que guiaste!
¡oh noche amable más que la alborada!;
¡oh noche que juntaste,
Amado con amada,
amada en el Amado transformada!

En mi pecho florido,
que entero para él solo se guardaba,
allí quedó dormido,
y yo le regalaba,
y el ventalle de cedros aire daba.

El aire del almena,
cuando yo sus cabellos esparcía,
con su mano serena
en mi cuello hería,
y todos mis sentidos suspendía.

Quedéme y olvidéme,
el rostro recliné sobre el Amado;
cesó todo y dejéme,
dejando mi cuidado
entre las azucenas olvidado.

So a few checks have finally come through...

...and I am able to go grocery shopping, so all is well with food, now, thank God. The real money to pay rent and phone bills will come within 2 weeks, so I am almost out of the financial depression I was sinking in.

My oldest niece, Alyssa, just turned 9 today, and I bought her "Where the Wild Things Are" and a diary to write her deepest darkest secrets (probably will write where she hides her candy stash, so I will more than likely be picking the lock next time I'm over). If she gets a decent report card in a few weeks, I promised to take her to see the movie screening (that is, if it's not too scary for her). She's not really paying attention to me right now, seeing as how she has 8 cousins to play with on her birthday, but she'll come back around when they're gone. She's all about moment to moment. As I told her, when her cousins around, I am nothing. She got a kick out of that. Little spoiled monster.

I will back in two weeks to Sacramento for my 32nd birthday (FUCK), and my Dad's 61'st. Hopefully my Dad will get me something useful. Like bread. Or cheese.

Flashbacks of Maturity in Childhood and Actions of an Adult at the Appropriate Time

..The only thing I believe people could say SVU was a bad show was that it became repetitious. I disagree. There are nuances that border that of changing slight shades of brown that always make me watch it. I've been recently watching SVU again, since Netflix has all the new seasons, and I am addicted while doing Greek homework (at the library computer annex).

I understand the implications behind me watching it, and although I was not sexually abused, I understand abuse. For some reason, watching this show calms me, which might sound sick to you, but it's probably because I grew up like a Father to close family. I quickly identify with wanting to assist and aid other people, although I am running from it now because I have learned that a cry for help may simply be that and nothing more. I am far more cautious with who I should help, as I should be. More than anything, I know I have to help myself more than anyone else in the world right now.

I am in a resplendent, calm, and serious mood right now, and for fleeting breaths of instant light I feel like my old self again. It's a good feeling to know that I really had a strong center in the base of my childhood. It's good to know that I can pull together, even when I am falling apart. Aside from the money situation, for which I have not been paid for two months because of financial aid and I have been seriously not eating for a good long while (although I do have some good friends out here now who let me borrow a 20 or two to make it through the remaining weeks I have before I get rightfully paid), I have not been sleeping, but I have been doing a decent job in keeping up with my classes. I may be lucky and get an A in Italian, since I have a pretty high B. Spanish could be better, but I think the professor will let me catch up if I email him soon.

I thank God for giving me the strength to understand my firm resolve and reinstill within myself the ability to start back up as an adult again. This time, however, I can be an adult at an adult age, instead of losing a childhood in order to be adult for everyone else. I can be adult for me.