Time for spring break. What does that mean? It means... this year of school is over. It means... senior year is over. It means... no more high school? It's hard to believe.
I have finally heard from the last of my schools, and the end result is better than I could have ever imagined. But as I take a step back, nostalgia gets the best of me. We're actually going to college! And while I'm quite excited about that, I am also quite sad about that. Lexington has been my home for 17 years, where my closest friends, family, and memories reside. I am anxiously awaiting the exciting, fascinating, enriching experiences ahead of bigger cities, new people, and an amazing education. Yet... I am leaving behind just as much as I am gaining.
We're finally here. This moment we have looked forward to from the very beginning, and it's actually here. Do we feel as excited as we thought we would? Is it as awesome as we thought it would be?
Relief. That's what I feel. But it's bittersweet-- theme of the year. Saying goodbye isn't always easy, but it's something I'll have to do in a few short months. Time is flying away from us, but maybe we should feel as good about that. High school will not last forever!
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Thursday, March 21, 2013
fleeting youth
Let it be known that we are adults/ almost adults. Is that scary?
This thought crossed my mind upon reading Bryan Borland's "Chasing Fireflies," a rather sad depiction of the loss accompanying the transition from childhood to adulthood. Do you still remember those nights "where [you] were content to run in circles, / arms outstretched, / chasing fireflies [?]" That kind of feeling of real freedom, the kind you can taste as a kid who didn't really have anything to worry about. As we cross the boundary from kid to no-longer-a-kid, will we see what Borland saw? Where life "has raised her mask and / revealed her face to be / the unexpected, / where even her smile / might be interpreted / as cold or callous." Have we already begun to see what Borland sees?
The fact of the matter is, we are growing older, and a growing age calls for growing responsibilities. It is sad to think that the wonder, imagination, and magic of childhood may only be a faint memory, when the complexities of life begin to really slap us in the face. We won't have faithful guardians for much longer, those loving parents who have, for 18 years, shielded us from the worst. Will we change in the face of the evil that inevitably pervades this world? Will we have the "the heart to seal their fate / inside a mason jar [?]" Things changed for Borland. Things will change. That's the sadness of the fleeting youth.
This thought crossed my mind upon reading Bryan Borland's "Chasing Fireflies," a rather sad depiction of the loss accompanying the transition from childhood to adulthood. Do you still remember those nights "where [you] were content to run in circles, / arms outstretched, / chasing fireflies [?]" That kind of feeling of real freedom, the kind you can taste as a kid who didn't really have anything to worry about. As we cross the boundary from kid to no-longer-a-kid, will we see what Borland saw? Where life "has raised her mask and / revealed her face to be / the unexpected, / where even her smile / might be interpreted / as cold or callous." Have we already begun to see what Borland sees?
The fact of the matter is, we are growing older, and a growing age calls for growing responsibilities. It is sad to think that the wonder, imagination, and magic of childhood may only be a faint memory, when the complexities of life begin to really slap us in the face. We won't have faithful guardians for much longer, those loving parents who have, for 18 years, shielded us from the worst. Will we change in the face of the evil that inevitably pervades this world? Will we have the "the heart to seal their fate / inside a mason jar [?]" Things changed for Borland. Things will change. That's the sadness of the fleeting youth.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
poems
"Poetry is what gets lost in translation." - Robert Frost
Have you ever thought of the transition between the words on the page and the person reading them? Does the entire intention really get through? Does anything get lost in translation?
The more I think about this, the more I believe in a divide, a certain amount of depth eliminated with the jump from words to mind. Every time I write a word, commit a thought to paper, does my reader really understand what I was thinking, what I'm trying to convey? Prose can be clear and illuminating but can also be limiting in a way, losing that sense of depth, emotion, poignancy, or intention that is ultimately lost in translation.
Poetry can be different, though, and for this reason, it is what gets lost in translation. The freedom allowed in the form of poetry is precisely what allows for the expression of thoughts, ideas, and feelings that usually remain untouched in the prose of the conventional nature. Poetry captures the imagination, states the relatable in a way that is understandable. The jump from paper to thought is manageable, eliminating that ordinary cost of transition. Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
Have you ever thought of the transition between the words on the page and the person reading them? Does the entire intention really get through? Does anything get lost in translation?
The more I think about this, the more I believe in a divide, a certain amount of depth eliminated with the jump from words to mind. Every time I write a word, commit a thought to paper, does my reader really understand what I was thinking, what I'm trying to convey? Prose can be clear and illuminating but can also be limiting in a way, losing that sense of depth, emotion, poignancy, or intention that is ultimately lost in translation.
Poetry can be different, though, and for this reason, it is what gets lost in translation. The freedom allowed in the form of poetry is precisely what allows for the expression of thoughts, ideas, and feelings that usually remain untouched in the prose of the conventional nature. Poetry captures the imagination, states the relatable in a way that is understandable. The jump from paper to thought is manageable, eliminating that ordinary cost of transition. Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
literate lexington
http://www.usatoday.com/story/life/books/2013/02/06/most-literate-city-washington/1894511/
Check it out. Lexington, KY is the 24th most literate city in the United States. Find this a little surprising? I do, as well. Lexington tops the literate list amongst the likes of Baltimore, New York, Boston, and New Orleans--large cities known for high-end education. The study conducted was based on the number of bookstores, library resources, newspaper circulation, Internet resources and educational levels (the goal was to shift the focus away from reading scores and more on how much people are actually reading)-- factors that are most attributed to bustling cities with high populations. How interesting that a small city in the southern state of Kentucky should be among the most literate cities.
I do feel a certain amount of pride in Lexington for this surprising feat, for we are are mighty city of readers able to compare with the largest cities in the nation. We have a wonderfully efficient public library system and a rather dependable newspaper source-- strong public schools and apparently a good number of bookstores to boot. Way to go Lexington!
Check it out. Lexington, KY is the 24th most literate city in the United States. Find this a little surprising? I do, as well. Lexington tops the literate list amongst the likes of Baltimore, New York, Boston, and New Orleans--large cities known for high-end education. The study conducted was based on the number of bookstores, library resources, newspaper circulation, Internet resources and educational levels (the goal was to shift the focus away from reading scores and more on how much people are actually reading)-- factors that are most attributed to bustling cities with high populations. How interesting that a small city in the southern state of Kentucky should be among the most literate cities.
I do feel a certain amount of pride in Lexington for this surprising feat, for we are are mighty city of readers able to compare with the largest cities in the nation. We have a wonderfully efficient public library system and a rather dependable newspaper source-- strong public schools and apparently a good number of bookstores to boot. Way to go Lexington!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)