The Journey

Hello imaginaries; this is just a rough draft of a poem I've been thinking about for a while now. I'm not happy with the whole second half, and even in the first half there could be improvements. But with my record of procrastination, this might be all that ever gets done. I was thinking it would be called "The Journey"

Water goes flowing, flowing, flowing

In the riverbeds, along the secret ways

Ever coming, ever going, going, going

Down the mountains, through the valleys next

Never caring, never knowing, knowing, knowing

All the fallen leaves drift away, pulled

The current always towing, towing, towing

For a moment stilled but now the sun looks down

In dry summer slowing, slowing, slowing

But the land has touched and having touched does not forget

And all the green things growing, growing, growing

Reaching up, reaching out to stretch and breath

And the winds keep blowing, blowing, blowing

Across the trees, across the fields, to gather up what’s there

And brushes the weary gardener hoeing, hoeing, hoeing

The gentle stalks are bending, bowing to the breeze

All the seeds now lost will soon be sowing, sowing, sowing

A long way from where flowers in a field once nodded to the wind

Over the land to the sea, with the waters glowing, glowing, glowing

Such a journey on the fickle wind, now a gust, and now a storm

With the high spray throwing, throwing, throwing

Glistening, gleaming, ice white droplets in the sky, in the eyes

In the faces of the tired oarsmen rowing, rowing, rowing

Fear goes on, as does the sun and the night is very long

And the dreadful music of the waves is lowing, lowing, lowing

The drowned siren calls, and sings, and sighs through the dark

But dawn and storm break and the love of life is crowing, crowing, crowing

But some say the piper must be paid, and so, too, the siren of the sea

So, standing on the shore, remember what is owing, owing, owing

Bits of Brains & The Fall of Civilization

No, my dears, this post isn't about zombies. Well, not really. And, ok, maybe "fall of civilization" is a bit melodramatic. Anyway.
In my psychology class, the professor handed out a packet on education in other countries; specifically Japan. The discussion was about how our educational system favors reading and mathematics so much and neglects music, the arts and physical education. There was a list showing the different hours per school year each subject got in a typical Japanese child's education from 1st to 6th grade. The hours for right-brain vs. left-brain activities balanced out pretty equally. The point was to illustrate something he was trying to tell us about creativity. Apparently, you can't be creative if you don't know anything, and the more rounded and extensive your education is, the more creative potential you have. Gah, what I would have given to be educated in Japan.
Similarly (or they seem similar to me, anyway), in my anthropology class a few sessions back, I got quite an interesting insight into the minds of my classmates. We were discussing the rise of civilization and the prof asked, "What do you think of when you think of civilization?" What answers she managed to squeeze out of us ranged from "Skyscrapers" to "Government" to "Highways" ... really. Exasperated, the professor asked, "What about the arts? What about science?"
What about the arts? What about science? Is this limited perception of civilization held by more people than just those in my anthropology class? A tall building, a long road and someone to tell you what to do. I don't know, maybe we are talking about zombies here.

Little Red Riding Hood

I finally finished this water color I posted about a while ago. I'll try to do a writing post in the near future; once my three test/projects are dealt with for this week and next. Stay imaginary!

Random Sketches

Hoo, boy. Just got over a doozy of a flu-type illness. Now, I'm getting back to my life; these sketches are all about five minute studies to relax. Enjoy!

Three Bags Full

Miss Maple is the smartest sheep in her flock – in all of Glenkill, really. Mopple the Whale is the best memory sheep his flock has ever had. Zora and Othello are the bravest sheep in the flock. But when the flock’s shepherd is murdered, all the sheep will have to pull together in order to solve this crime and escape the butcher’s block!
This book is extremely clever and well written. The author, Leonie Swann, does a really good job in creating a believable culture for the sheep; according to her, sheep equate the size of a creature’s soul with the ability to smell (needless to say they consider humans as soulless). We see human behavior through the (often quite hilarious) misinterpretations of the sheep. Add in a good mystery and you have a quite entertaining read.

Jumbly-like behavior

Urg! I've been knocking my brains out all afternoon over some seriously bad plot holes - I feel like I've gone to sea in a seive!