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discombobulate) wrote2009-03-13 05:38 pm
discombobulate) wrote2009-03-13 05:38 pm
Entry tags:
Writer's Block: Really, Truly
[Error: unknown template qotd] This question is actually really appropriate considering the poem we read today in Literary Workshop:
True Love by Judith Viorst
It is true love because
I put on eyeliner and a concerto and make pungent observations about the great issues of the day
Even when there's no one here but him,
And because
I do not resent watching the Green Bay Packers
Even though I am philosophically opposed to football,
And because
When he is late for dinner and I know he must be either having an affair or lying dead in the middle of the street,
I always hope he's dead.
It's true love because
If he said quit drinking martinis but I kept drinking them and the next morning I couldn't get out of bed,
He wouldn't tell me he told me,
And because
He is willing to wear un-ironed undershorts
Out of respect for the fact that I am philosophically opposed to ironing,
And because
If his mother was drowning and I was drowning and he had to choose one of us to save,
He says he'd save me.
It's true love because
When he went to San Francisco on business while I had to stay home with the painters and the exterminator and the baby who was getting the chicken pox,
He understood why I hated him,
And because
When I said that playing the stock market was juvenile and irresponsible and then the stock I wouldn't let him buy went up twenty-six points,
I understood why he hated me,
And because
Despite cigarette cough, tooth decay, acid indigestion, dandruff, and other features of married life that tend to dampen the fires of passion,
We still feel something
We can call
True love.
SO YES. To me, that sounds like True love. "True" as in, in the real world. Nowadays that cheesy love (i read about in all those fanfics) is just really hard to come by, and even harder to maintain, you know? Anyway this poem brought a smile to my face when I read it so I am sharing B|
Now that the writer's block is done and over with, I find I am again kinda bummed. Raaaaargh, it's just so hard to write a forensics speech! I can write stories, I can write poems but I can't fucking write a good dramatic monologue! Everything I write ends up being stuffy and boring, blaaaaargh. I THINK IT'S TIME I WENT TO KENYA AND LISTENED TO/WATCHED SOME BACKSTREET BOYS.
Also my iffy mood throughout the day might have to do with the fact that I went to sleep super late yesterday working on that AP English Magazine. It was really nice getting everyone's praises and all that (and considering I did it in one day, it was awesome) but it still took me like five hours to make. I may not have done it for grade's sake, but if I get anything less than a 100 I will commit a random act of violence, I swear. (I couldn't choose between killing myself, killing someone randomly, or killing Zaida. But she's so cute...)
It is true love because
I put on eyeliner and a concerto and make pungent observations about the great issues of the day
Even when there's no one here but him,
And because
I do not resent watching the Green Bay Packers
Even though I am philosophically opposed to football,
And because
When he is late for dinner and I know he must be either having an affair or lying dead in the middle of the street,
I always hope he's dead.
It's true love because
If he said quit drinking martinis but I kept drinking them and the next morning I couldn't get out of bed,
He wouldn't tell me he told me,
And because
He is willing to wear un-ironed undershorts
Out of respect for the fact that I am philosophically opposed to ironing,
And because
If his mother was drowning and I was drowning and he had to choose one of us to save,
He says he'd save me.
It's true love because
When he went to San Francisco on business while I had to stay home with the painters and the exterminator and the baby who was getting the chicken pox,
He understood why I hated him,
And because
When I said that playing the stock market was juvenile and irresponsible and then the stock I wouldn't let him buy went up twenty-six points,
I understood why he hated me,
And because
Despite cigarette cough, tooth decay, acid indigestion, dandruff, and other features of married life that tend to dampen the fires of passion,
We still feel something
We can call
True love.
SO YES. To me, that sounds like True love. "True" as in, in the real world. Nowadays that cheesy love (i read about in all those fanfics) is just really hard to come by, and even harder to maintain, you know? Anyway this poem brought a smile to my face when I read it so I am sharing B|
Now that the writer's block is done and over with, I find I am again kinda bummed. Raaaaargh, it's just so hard to write a forensics speech! I can write stories, I can write poems but I can't fucking write a good dramatic monologue! Everything I write ends up being stuffy and boring, blaaaaargh. I THINK IT'S TIME I WENT TO KENYA AND LISTENED TO/WATCHED SOME BACKSTREET BOYS.
Also my iffy mood throughout the day might have to do with the fact that I went to sleep super late yesterday working on that AP English Magazine. It was really nice getting everyone's praises and all that (and considering I did it in one day, it was awesome) but it still took me like five hours to make. I may not have done it for grade's sake, but if I get anything less than a 100 I will commit a random act of violence, I swear. (I couldn't choose between killing myself, killing someone randomly, or killing Zaida. But she's so cute...)
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This line cracked me the hell up. You have no idea.
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