Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.
Credit of John Keats. Tears credit of me.
It was very sad. Gorgeous, but horribly sad.
Keats died when he was 25- big spoiler, I know. I'll be 24 in about a month. That's strange. And those in their 60's tell me I'm young and have so much life to live. I don't really care. It feels old to me.
I didn't blog last Thursday, if I remember correctly because I was sick out of my mind. It may have been H1N1, but I don't know. I feel better now. And calling it H1N1 is stupid. Call it what it is- SWINE FLU. That's just funny. Pig flu. Ha. haha.
I got baptized yesterday. :)
Saturday and Sunday I had the pleasure of hanging out with the one and only Lissa Halls Johnson. My favorite part of the weekend... rummaging through old, occasionally nasty books at a used book store on the corner of Colorado Springs' strange little downtown. She told me stories about the authors. It makes me smile just to think of it. I have trinkets of information that no one will ever know about the people that actually wrote the books. That's rather priceless. I bought a bunch of books at her wise prompting and can't wait to read them. If days were 30 hours long... I say I'd have so much more time to do the things I need to do. In reality, I'd probably just fill them "accidentally" with other things besides reading. Sigh.
It appears that every time I write a blog I'm drinking a latte. Today it's a pumpkin spice of Starbucks. The Starbucks this morning was utterly, ridiculously freezing. There are two doors at that establishment, so every time someone walked in either of the doors, my body went into shock and shivered. It was unpleasant. Silly corporate latte factories.
I'm still tired, and obviously recovering from last week. But I've completed my regiment of steroids to clear the snot from my lungs, the Tamaflu that cost me $60, the vicadin that really only served to keep me up at night (yeah, figure that one out) and using albuterol to keep my lungs open. Lovely.
I suppose I should get to work. One of my co-workers brought me chicken soup. She's a doll.
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