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Sojourner_Somewhere
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Name: Heatherly
Location: California, United States
Birthday: 4/2/1984
Gender: Female
Interests: Whatever strikes an impulse of delight. Mostly reading, writing, photography, being a music connoisseur, bits and pieces of enjoyable things.
Expertise:
Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  LaydeeShallot
Member Since:
11/3/2002
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| An old acquaintance who is now a friend: Elizabeth Bishop. I have always adored "At the Fish-houses" and "Music" . Especially the former. It is the single most stirring depiction of a cold sea to me. It has rooted itself in my subconscious, "coloring it like water through wine". I adore her voice coming from somewhere near in calm and wondering tones.
Insomnia, by Elizabeth Bishop
The moon in the bureau mirror
looks out a million miles
(and perhaps with pride, at herself,
but she never, never smiles)
far and away beyond sleep, or
perhaps she's a daytime sleeper.
By the Universe deserted,
she'd tell it to go to hell,
and she'd find a body of water,
or a mirror, on which to dwell.
So wrap up care in a cobweb
and drop it down the well
into that world inverted
where left is always right,
where the shadows are really the body,
where we stay awake all night,
where the heavens are shallow as the sea
is now deep, and you love me. | | |
| So begins another school year. I'm two days in and I already have a sense of dread about one of my classes: Con Law II. Not for difficulty but the fact that she wants there to be "lively class discussion" of "controversial topics", which roughly translates to: I respond to something with a conservative viewpoint and the rest of the class turns to me and hisses. Needless to say I'm not particularly excited.
Before the class, a friend of mine who's a Berkeley grad and falls on the liberal end of the spectrum recommended we should sit next to each other so we can disagree about everything. In response, I try to extend the olive branch and maintain that there must be something we can agree on as reasonable people. He responds by saying something along the lines of we both think women shouldn't vote. Har Har.
Everybody's a critic.
On a different note, my judicial internship at the San Diego Superior court begins on Monday for round 23 or more hours a week. We'll see how I fare. I have to keep a daily journal for it, so xanga you may bear my boring wrath. It's exciting to finally be cutting my teeth on some hardcore legal work. Strange to think a judge wil be reading my memos to help formulate and sway his ruling. Seems too much to be in such little hands, but God is with me. I'd write at greater length and with more eloquence, xanga, but I am falling a asleep on my new sofa. To be continued.
(But I will say that the above selection is a sad revelation of what I choose as leisure reading.) | | |
| I wish I could unwind a moment I had today. Start again, and this time, hold my tongue. It happens to me so often you'd think I'd learn. This is one of the graver times.
If we could only undo the hurt that was carelessly inflicted on others, that our hands could be bound by forgiveness and our tongues weighted with grace. | | |
| My grandmother, Marnie, passed away last night. I was holding her hand as she was fighting for air. My mother, my cousin, my aunt and I were around her hospital bed. She was a huge part of my childhood and a significant part of my life. We were supposed to have at least a few more weeks, maybe months, but a procedure went wrong. She had pancreatic cancer, and it was a miracle she lasted this long.
She was a simple, loving woman, and it amazes me that I could never think of one mean thing she said to me. She'd scold now and again, but I was never attacked. She loved so much.
My mother says I outgrew her in some ways, and it's true. The relationship changed, but I have so many memories of her in my personal history. If I wasn't with my mother as a child, I was with my Marnie. I feel it more poignantly than I imagined I would.
She taught me what she could. We listened to Vivaldi, name flowers, go antique-ing, get frozen yogurt, go to movies, woodbridge lake, Solvang trips, tea parties, old orange and a dozen other pretty little things. She was my Marnie, the grandparent who was most active in my life. Whatever grandparents are to a family, she was the best example of that to me.
I sprained my back yesterday too, so I can't move too well. The muscle relaxers are moderately helpful. Perhaps it's good. I'm not compelled to go anywhere and accomplish anything because I can't. My law review write on is woefully unfinished and I need to muster the heart to complete it. Today, I will just sit and wait for an unknown something and maybe see a movie to distract me. Last night the boy brought me ice cream at midnight and sat with me. It helped.
Hug someone you care about today and let them know they're loved. | | |
| Whenever I glance back on my past, the lanscape changes. Mountains become valleys and valleys rise to peaks. Some people were kinder than I thought, some crueler and a few a little bit of both. It's the same for myself.
The danger is when you want to recapture some of those people, places and things. That is when you find your memories are rosier than the experience was (often, but not always). My life had it's own bits of mild tumult. But maybe that's what I miss.
Some things have become solid, comforting, steady, and maybe I want a bit of the poetry back. Not all of it. I value constancy more than passion.
Sad things are coming. But they are expected things in the rhythm of life. And good things have happened, but I will not say that they are part of the process of living. Each is a gift. I'm one third done with law school and looking forward to a free(er) summer. | | |
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