Floating Angel

Blurry, but pretty!

Dreams Deferred, Cont'd

Okay, I just re-read my last post and realized that it sounds really pathetic and pitiful. I'm not that pathetic, I promise! What I meant was that somehow time seems to be running out. Every day that goes by when I'm just treading water instead of going after my dreams is another dream deferred. I've also come to the conclusion that most of my dreams are pretty much unattainable. That's a really depressing realization to have, because what does it leave me with? Should I take a risk and try for one, or play it safe and keep on doing what I'm doing? Is the ache that I live with every day that I don't pursue my dreams something that I will eventually grow used to, or something that will just fade away with time? Is it worth the risk of attempting and most likely failing at something I've always dreamt about? I'm not just talking the emotional risk, although that's a heavy factor. I'm also talking about the financial aspect too. I really want to pursue photojournalism, especially with regards to war and conflict, because that is something that I feel so strongly about, but the logic in me warns that it's a very tough field, very competitive and difficult to make a living in. That's not even considering the discomfort, pain, danger, sickness, fear, everything that comes with working in war zones. I don't even like camping! Can I handle it? And then there's the fact that I don't think I'm a very good photographer. I don't know if I could even hack it. Is it worth going through all the hassle of applying to a program, getting in (hopefully), moving there, paying tuition, doing the coursework, and then possibly failing at it?

My Dreams Deferred

Another poem that accurately fits where I am in my life right now. I'm only 24, yet I feel like my life is over. I feel like my dreams will never be achieved, so there's no point wasting my time with them. Sad, no?

A Dream Deferred

by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Wisconin Wishing

Greetings to everyone from PackerLand! I'm in Wisconsin at the moment visiting my brother, who lives in Green Bay (only about a mile from Lambeau field for any of you Cheeseheads out there), for his birthday. I also have an aunt, uncle, and two adorable little cousins, aged 3 and 5, who live nearby as well, so I particularly like coming up here for visits. Unfortunately I'm only here for the weekend; I have to leave tomorrow so I can be at work bright and early Monday morning (7am). Uck. Can't I just stay here? I'd much rather do that. My cousins are adorable and I so rarely get to spend any time with them any more. Work is going to be crazy busy next week from what I hear, so I'd prefer to stay here and veg out as long as possible. But alas, that is not an option.

As for pictures, well, I brought my brand-new DSLR with me and planned to take all sorts of fantastic shots, but the battery died before I could do much more than snap a few of my cousins. Sorry!

My next update will be from back home in the Burg. See you then!

The Treasured Volume

I just stumbled on this poem a few minutes ago, completely by chance, and by chance it just happens to describe the way I've been feeling the past few days perfectly. This poem is pure beauty, the kind of beauty that is rarely found these days and treasured when it is found. It's no surprise that Longfellow is considered to be one of what he himself terms "the grand old masters".

Read, and enjoy.

Bask in the beauty of what good poetry can be.

Let your mind rest while your eyes move.

Just feel.

The Day is Done

by

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.

Rays of Light

The empty room in my apartment has a west-facing window that gets brilliant afternoon sunlight which pretty much illuminates the whole apartment for several hours.

New Pictures!

I finally went out and took some new shots a few weeks ago, took them in to be developed and meant to pick them up last Friday--but I got sick. I came down with something on Friday, was pretty bad that day and miserable all weekend. I basically spent three days in bed/on my futon in front of the TV subsisting on water, orange juice, and crackers while blowing my nose constantly. I hate being sick :(

Anyways, this picture was taken near my apartment building, where the railroad tracks cross over that sewer-canal-thing, whatever it is. I've taken pictures of this before, but facing the other way. This way the canal (I'm going to call it that because it sounds much more appealing than "sewer"). On this side is an old abandoned factory building, Willis Steel. I have no idea how long it's been empty, but clearly for quite a while. Great photo op.

For the most part the whole roll was wasted because very few of my shots turned out well, but this one I love! It's the only good shot from that pathetic roll of film.

Feline Feature

Wow, it seems like this past week has just flown by. I can't believe it's that time again; for the Feline Feature!

This week's choice is an old one of George, taken at my house during college. I just love the expression on his face; it's so classic George!