"Twilight is the Poets awakening hour-
When all around is hushed and still,
It lends the mind suggestive power-
And makes the heart to thrill
The songsters matin as the day declines
The balmy softness of the summers breeze
The darker green that deepens on the vines
And clusters over the trees-
Feed man's poetic sense with love-
His soul with noble passion fires."
So, I found this written in pencil inside the back of "The Aldine Poets': Akenside", the name "Robert Martin, Nov. 28th 1874" written in the front. There's a whole bunch of other stuff that's been erased, too. I googled it, parts of it, and nothing came up. Check it out at the MSM Library - Call number PR 3311.A5 D8 1866 Copy 2.
I love finding stuff like this.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Wave goodbye to the hippies, kids!
Here we are again.
It's officially 12:05AM Pacific time by my laptop clock. Four hours until I need to 'get up' to get ready to drive to the airport at 4:30am to navigate through that labyrinth of airport security and catch my 6:00am flight to Salt Lake City, wait around for two hours and then fly to Baltimore and then get picked up and finally make it to school, hopefully before 7pm.
And, I hate this part. It just hurts, there's nothing good about it. The goodbyes to my friends here hurt. The nagging from my parents hurts. Missing my college buddies hurts.
I know I'll be back at the end of February. But that doesn't help much now. I'm half packed, and sick of packing. I'll finish after this note.
It's this in between that I hate. Washington's my home. I love the air always smells like pine, the tap water that tastes bottled, the hippies at the Portland Airport (they don't know it, but they've always been the first to welcome me home), my parents, my friends at all the Washington schools who molded me and got me ready to start to figure out who I'm supposed to be now that I'm in college. But Maryland, Mount Saint Mary's more like (since I really have been confined to the campus), is where I think I'm finding myself. I'm happier overall than I was in high school. I don't have to worry about being Catholic. It's only been a few months with my girls and my HL crew, but I don't know what I'd do without them. I miss you all so much when I'm home. You welcomed me with open arms and helped me bridge the culture gap between the two coasts (though I still haven't had Old Bay yet). I'm not sure if you'll ever know how much that means to me. And then there's Kayla, my one bridge between the two worlds. I love you. I can't do this without you. You know that.
God, I've got all this feeling churning in me, and neither will come out nor go away. I can't wait until I get to security at PDX, because then I'll be alone again and all this will settle down. Truly alone. I really like traveling alone. It lets you spend time introspecting and finding out who you really are. Because you've only got yourself to rely on. I mean, yeah, you've got your cell. But last time I flew I had no idea where it was, and I thought I had left it at school (turns out it was at the bottom of my bag. figures.). It was then, though, that I really felt alone for the first time. My lifelines really depended on my mental phone book and supply of quarters, and calling WA from Baltimore isn't cheap. I guess it all just gives you perspective.
People throw the phrase around way too much, but I'm going to use it anyway. I love you all, so much. I can't wait for this semester to start. Ha, I can't even see past the first week. It'll be nice to get back and put contacts in. Yeah, I left my other pairs at school, and so I've been wearing the glasses for the last two weeks. *eyeroll* Typical Katelyn.
Man, I wish someone was online right now. It's so lonely, this part. I tend to think about death during this part, too. I know, I know, Steinke's a morbid child. But wouldn't you? I mean, the planes could crash, and that'd be it. I'd be gone, and the only thing left here would be what people remember me as. It'd be so incredibly ironic: to die during the time of my life when I finally feel the most alive. Ha. HaHa.
But enough about that.
What's her name said "Only kindness matters." I disagree. Love and what we do for and because of it are the only things that matter. Love as in the mysterious force in the room in the Department of Mysteries. Love as in something that really doesn't die. Something transcendental.
But what do we know about that? We are all just a bunch of clueless...young adults...trying to find themselves and figure out what the hell is going on. And we screw up a lot of times, and oh yes, there will be drama, but it seems like we are learning from everything that happens, be it good or bad, just trying to come into our own. Maybe there's hope for us after all.
;-)
I think I'm going to go finish packing now.
P.S. Go Pack Go.
It's officially 12:05AM Pacific time by my laptop clock. Four hours until I need to 'get up' to get ready to drive to the airport at 4:30am to navigate through that labyrinth of airport security and catch my 6:00am flight to Salt Lake City, wait around for two hours and then fly to Baltimore and then get picked up and finally make it to school, hopefully before 7pm.
And, I hate this part. It just hurts, there's nothing good about it. The goodbyes to my friends here hurt. The nagging from my parents hurts. Missing my college buddies hurts.
I know I'll be back at the end of February. But that doesn't help much now. I'm half packed, and sick of packing. I'll finish after this note.
It's this in between that I hate. Washington's my home. I love the air always smells like pine, the tap water that tastes bottled, the hippies at the Portland Airport (they don't know it, but they've always been the first to welcome me home), my parents, my friends at all the Washington schools who molded me and got me ready to start to figure out who I'm supposed to be now that I'm in college. But Maryland, Mount Saint Mary's more like (since I really have been confined to the campus), is where I think I'm finding myself. I'm happier overall than I was in high school. I don't have to worry about being Catholic. It's only been a few months with my girls and my HL crew, but I don't know what I'd do without them. I miss you all so much when I'm home. You welcomed me with open arms and helped me bridge the culture gap between the two coasts (though I still haven't had Old Bay yet). I'm not sure if you'll ever know how much that means to me. And then there's Kayla, my one bridge between the two worlds. I love you. I can't do this without you. You know that.
God, I've got all this feeling churning in me, and neither will come out nor go away. I can't wait until I get to security at PDX, because then I'll be alone again and all this will settle down. Truly alone. I really like traveling alone. It lets you spend time introspecting and finding out who you really are. Because you've only got yourself to rely on. I mean, yeah, you've got your cell. But last time I flew I had no idea where it was, and I thought I had left it at school (turns out it was at the bottom of my bag. figures.). It was then, though, that I really felt alone for the first time. My lifelines really depended on my mental phone book and supply of quarters, and calling WA from Baltimore isn't cheap. I guess it all just gives you perspective.
People throw the phrase around way too much, but I'm going to use it anyway. I love you all, so much. I can't wait for this semester to start. Ha, I can't even see past the first week. It'll be nice to get back and put contacts in. Yeah, I left my other pairs at school, and so I've been wearing the glasses for the last two weeks. *eyeroll* Typical Katelyn.
Man, I wish someone was online right now. It's so lonely, this part. I tend to think about death during this part, too. I know, I know, Steinke's a morbid child. But wouldn't you? I mean, the planes could crash, and that'd be it. I'd be gone, and the only thing left here would be what people remember me as. It'd be so incredibly ironic: to die during the time of my life when I finally feel the most alive. Ha. HaHa.
But enough about that.
What's her name said "Only kindness matters." I disagree. Love and what we do for and because of it are the only things that matter. Love as in the mysterious force in the room in the Department of Mysteries. Love as in something that really doesn't die. Something transcendental.
But what do we know about that? We are all just a bunch of clueless...young adults...trying to find themselves and figure out what the hell is going on. And we screw up a lot of times, and oh yes, there will be drama, but it seems like we are learning from everything that happens, be it good or bad, just trying to come into our own. Maybe there's hope for us after all.
;-)
I think I'm going to go finish packing now.
P.S. Go Pack Go.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
I'm in a post-grungy and sunsets mood
((From my Facebook Notes...))
So I was Facebook stalking a few of my friends, going beyond the usual list and came across an incredibly gorgeous picture of one of my friends watching a sunset. The sunset was beautiful over what could have been a desert, and it made me think of that time on the last Mission Trip where a bunch of us walked up all over a few really good hills (you east coast people might call them mountains). The sun began to set, and you could see out into the desert-y rolling hillside, and behind you you could see a gorgeous, luscious green valley. It really was a moment of paradise. I'd describe it more, but every description of a sunset always falls short and never seems to be as meaningful to those witnessing it second hand. So I'll spare you the details.
I love sunsets. They're one of my favorite things. Ever. I prefer them to sunrises, but granted I've seen about a hundred times as many sunsets as sunrises. Although I have to admit, watching the sun rise when I fly back to Maryland is pretty sweet. I'd rather watch a sunset, though. Maybe it's because I like the night, the dark, and the stars. Could that be linked to my love of the scary? The morbid, the dark, why Halloween is my favorite holiday? I think both have the same root. I'm not sure what that is, though. It's something in who I am. Naturally attracted to the dark side of things. I suppose some people would find that disturbing...I know some people think that part of me kinda is. And I don't blame them, I'm pretty sure they still want to associate with me in spite of it. If not, screw you. Good Katelyn will keep on pretending that everything's fine, and Bad Katelyn doesn't care one way or another and will probably bad mouth you in her sleep.
Maybe I have some sort of black hole in me. Like, it could be something missing (the Jesus shaped hole! Maybe...), or it could be a lot of things. It could be a lack of self confidence and esteem. It could be lack of comfort with who I am. Yeah, maybe. If I could only figure out exactly, precisely, undeniably why I am uncomfortable with myself, then maybe I can cure it. I'm not sure if I've actually been curing it or have just gotten better at dealing with it and covering it up. I suppose it doesn't make a different to the outside world; the affect is the same, right? But it matters to me. Maybe that's a good place to go. Figuring out what matters to me. It's sounds so simple, so obvious. Well of course I know what matters to me! Or do I? In the larger sense, yes. But in the little things? No. Ha. comfort with who I am. I'm trying to figure out who I am, so maybe that's a fluid thing right now. Or maybe it's just obscured.
Another thought. Why am I pouring out my soul to Facebook? Lord knows far more people can read it than on my Myspace. Especially because notes don't get published too often on Facebook. But see, that's the thing. That's the one thing I can actually say that I don't care what others think about me. Maybe it's because I can be so completely and brutally honest with myself and do some real soul searching, that if anyone blows it off or takes it and tries to desecrate it, that it's just stupid and wrong to do so. There's a taboo on killing parts of someone's soul. So my dears, read, comment as you like.
I saw Dave, my old boss, today. Talked with him and Max (a manager) for about an hour. Dave thinks that I'm still far too high strung. So that's my new year's resolution - try to lower my stringing. The way I see it, I'm not as happy as I probably could be being high strung, type A, whatever (although if i'm type A this sucks, because I don't have any of the organizational or perfectionistic benefits). So yeah. Oh, and apparently I need to be a kid.
Hmmm. In summary, I just discovered that my favorite music genre is post-grunge. Grunge, seriously? I guess they also call grunge Seattle Sound. Go figure. But I'll still listen to anything.
So I was Facebook stalking a few of my friends, going beyond the usual list and came across an incredibly gorgeous picture of one of my friends watching a sunset. The sunset was beautiful over what could have been a desert, and it made me think of that time on the last Mission Trip where a bunch of us walked up all over a few really good hills (you east coast people might call them mountains). The sun began to set, and you could see out into the desert-y rolling hillside, and behind you you could see a gorgeous, luscious green valley. It really was a moment of paradise. I'd describe it more, but every description of a sunset always falls short and never seems to be as meaningful to those witnessing it second hand. So I'll spare you the details.
I love sunsets. They're one of my favorite things. Ever. I prefer them to sunrises, but granted I've seen about a hundred times as many sunsets as sunrises. Although I have to admit, watching the sun rise when I fly back to Maryland is pretty sweet. I'd rather watch a sunset, though. Maybe it's because I like the night, the dark, and the stars. Could that be linked to my love of the scary? The morbid, the dark, why Halloween is my favorite holiday? I think both have the same root. I'm not sure what that is, though. It's something in who I am. Naturally attracted to the dark side of things. I suppose some people would find that disturbing...I know some people think that part of me kinda is. And I don't blame them, I'm pretty sure they still want to associate with me in spite of it. If not, screw you. Good Katelyn will keep on pretending that everything's fine, and Bad Katelyn doesn't care one way or another and will probably bad mouth you in her sleep.
Maybe I have some sort of black hole in me. Like, it could be something missing (the Jesus shaped hole! Maybe...), or it could be a lot of things. It could be a lack of self confidence and esteem. It could be lack of comfort with who I am. Yeah, maybe. If I could only figure out exactly, precisely, undeniably why I am uncomfortable with myself, then maybe I can cure it. I'm not sure if I've actually been curing it or have just gotten better at dealing with it and covering it up. I suppose it doesn't make a different to the outside world; the affect is the same, right? But it matters to me. Maybe that's a good place to go. Figuring out what matters to me. It's sounds so simple, so obvious. Well of course I know what matters to me! Or do I? In the larger sense, yes. But in the little things? No. Ha. comfort with who I am. I'm trying to figure out who I am, so maybe that's a fluid thing right now. Or maybe it's just obscured.
Another thought. Why am I pouring out my soul to Facebook? Lord knows far more people can read it than on my Myspace. Especially because notes don't get published too often on Facebook. But see, that's the thing. That's the one thing I can actually say that I don't care what others think about me. Maybe it's because I can be so completely and brutally honest with myself and do some real soul searching, that if anyone blows it off or takes it and tries to desecrate it, that it's just stupid and wrong to do so. There's a taboo on killing parts of someone's soul. So my dears, read, comment as you like.
I saw Dave, my old boss, today. Talked with him and Max (a manager) for about an hour. Dave thinks that I'm still far too high strung. So that's my new year's resolution - try to lower my stringing. The way I see it, I'm not as happy as I probably could be being high strung, type A, whatever (although if i'm type A this sucks, because I don't have any of the organizational or perfectionistic benefits). So yeah. Oh, and apparently I need to be a kid.
Hmmm. In summary, I just discovered that my favorite music genre is post-grunge. Grunge, seriously? I guess they also call grunge Seattle Sound. Go figure. But I'll still listen to anything.
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