You're Still Here?

Ugh. So it turns out I'm not really a blogger. I'm more of a Twitterer. Sometimes, in the middle of a sentence, or at the end of a particularly good nap, or at the beginning of a familiar movie, I feel a twang of regret for pretty much never updating this thing.

But to blog, it helps to have something to blog about. I already write a journal, post to Twitter, text my friends, and email my professors with inane questions that ramble on and on and I suspect will eventually lead to nowhere...

So why do I need this thing? I don't think I do. I hesitate to delete my account, though. Perhaps I'll save it just in case I get hit on the head and the resulting concussion alters my brain so much that I become a blogger extraordinaire. Until that time, or some other night when I get bored and have already watched too many episodes of Arrested Development, adieu.

Proof That I Spend My Time Wisely

My laptop has returned to me after a 6 week absence. Yes, it apparently takes that long to repair a broken screen (really I'm not angry, but I went through some major withdrawals and have not yet fully recovered).

Anyhoo, now that it's back I can finally share my productiveness with the world. Here is an outline of Maleficent from Disney's Sleeping Beauty that you can color:

That I took from this picture:

Why do this, you ask? Because, I answer. Just because.

I didn't do the background even though it's awesome because that was going to take way to long. I want to get started on other pictures.

I'm terrified of the Copyright Law so let me emphasize that Maleficent, Sleeping Beauty, and almost everything else you can think of are copyrighted by Disney. Please, Disney, do not gore me with your long and savage claws.

Because Nobody Wanted My Opinion...

I completely agree with this guy about American Idol:

http://www.mercurynews.com/music/ci_12429811

Trailokya Nath Mukharji - A Visit to Europe

Mukharji simultaneously made me laugh and feel ashamed for my forefathers. Most of my ancestors were British, and to read about their ignorant hijinks from the perspective of an intelligent, witty foreigner made me cringe a little even as I was chuckling. Stuff like this always strengthens, at least temporarily, my resolve to be a better example.

Good Quotes

"The number of wives we left at home was also a constant theme of speculation among them, and shrewd guesses were sometimes made on this point, 250 being a favourite number. You could tell any amount of stories on this subject without exciting the slightest suspicion. Once, one of our number told a pretty waitress--"I am awfully pleased with you, and I want to marry you. Will you accept the fortieth wifeship in my household which became vacant just before I left my country?" She asked--"How many wives have you altogether?" "Two hundred and fifty, the usual number," was the ready answer. "What became of your wife, number 40?" "I killed her, because one morning she could not cook my porrige well." The poor girl was horrified, and exclaimed--"O you monster, O you wretch!"'

Actually, I'm not going to include anymore because I find myself wishing to type way too much than is good for me. Suffice to say, the little we read for class was a fun, easy read that I did not expect, and I plan on reading the rest someday.

Dylan Thomas - "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night"

This poem was written to Thomas' father whose eyesight and health were failing at the time. Thomas may also have been thinking of himself, for as a teenager he had an illness and his doctor gave him four more years to live. Indeed, this poem was published in 1951, and Thomas died in 1953 at the age of 39, due in part to alcoholism and pneumonia (it's pretty complicated. Look him up in Wikipedia if you're curious).

In this poem Thomas does not deny that death is inevitable, but he presses the belief that all men should fight it as best they can. Although I agree that people shouldn't just give up on life, Thomas' father was in his eighties and it seems like he had a pretty good run. For me, a person who believes in God and heaven, it seems a little silly to try to prolong something when the next step is going to be much better. However, I certainly understand Thomas not wanting to see his father become frail and eventually leave him. I'm not looking forward to that with my parents either (and I plan on outliving them).

The Poem

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.