Hobbits, Snellebrations, and Other Fun

Hello again! I'm aware that it's been a ridiculously long time since I last posted, but tons has happened since then! So in no particular order, here goes:

First off, I saw Sean Astin tonight! And he talked to me! I mean sure, he was on stage and he was answering my question, but he still totally talked to me. And quoted Sam lines. Which was amazing. It may sound pathetic, but meeting an LotR actor is a dream come true. And I had friends to go with! I found some English majors right down the hall (one is in my super-awesome creative writing class) who were just as excited as me (well maybe not quite that excited, but pretty close).

In fact, the friend thing is going surprisingly well. There are still a lot of people I don't know (many of whom I don't particularly want to know), but I've slowly met people and made some friends.

The first weekend after classes was really crazy: the girls in my hall planned a schedule which consisted of Pilates at Ramsey (our fancy gym), dinner, 17 Again, Phi Slam (a super-fun alcohol-free dance party), and Dawgs After Dark (a school sponsored event with free food, and this time, a mechanical bull, which was actually really painful, but now I can say I've done it). Since then things have settled down into movies and Scrabble, but those are still really fun. Plus, every Wednesday night we Snellebrate, which means we go to our 24-hour dining hall after midnight and eat breakfast food (like those waffles that you pour in the thing and then flip over!).

Classes are pretty homework intensive, but most of them are really interesting. Latin is the exception, but at least it's not super hard like I thought it would be (mostly due to Ms. Lovette's presence as a student). Linguistics is really interesting (I think I'm gonna double major in it), and of course Brit Lit and Creative Writing are fun. We had this really cool assignment, so if you're interested you can read it, otherwise stop reading now since the rest of this blog will be of no interest.

TWENTY LITTLE POETRY PROJECTS

Jim Simmerman

1. Begin the poem with a metaphor.

2. Say something specific but utterly preposterous.

3. Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout the poem.

4. Use one example of synesthesia (mixing the senses).

5. Use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place.

6. Contradict something you said earlier in the poem.

7. Change direction or digress from the last thing you said.

8. Use a word (slang?) you’ve never seen in a poem.

9. Use an example of false cause-effect logic.

10. Use a piece of talk you’ve actually heard (preferably in dialect and/or which you don’t understand).

11. Create a metaphor using the following construction: "The (adjective) (concrete noun) of (abstract noun) . . ."

12. Use an image in such a way as to reverse its usual associative qualities.

13. Make the persona or character in the poem do something he or she could not do in "real life."

14. Refer to yourself by nickname and in the third person.

15. Write in the future tense, such that part of the poem seems to be a prediction.

16. Modify a noun with an unlikely adjective.

17. Make a declarative assertion that sounds convincing but that finally makes no sense.

18. Use a phrase from a language other than English.

19. Make a non-human object say or do something human (personification).

20. Close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement, but that "echoes" an image from earlier in the poem.

Open the poem with the first project and close it with the last. Otherwise use the projects in whatever order you like, giving each project at least one line. Try to use all twenty projects. Feel free to repeat those you like. Fool around. Enjoy.

So this is what I came up with:

Sometimes my day is cold spaghetti,

clammy on my tongue with jealousy and apathy and a hint of sadness,

all muddled noodles intertwining.

Because I’ve seen their smiles and heard their laughter,

but through the cold window of loneliness.

And he says, “Put scorpions in their bed!”

but that’s no solution, only sceleri scelus,

so like Ovid, alone with his myths, longing for Rome,

I wait for metamorphosis,

to crumple my wings and scrunch back into a caterpillar,

into a little girl whose grandpa calls her Hopi,

but not like the Indians, for they have no home.

Then the rain hangs curtains on my lonely view

and I dream of dancing elephants,

until my sister is calling because my phone is ringing,

and I float through my window

(it tastes of ice and champagne).

And I will meet her, drenched in the smell of rain,

and we will laugh and run like children,

whom time and mud can never touch,

because the day isn’t like spaghetti at all;

it’s as shapely and round as a callipygian,

as warm and buttery as freshly baked rolls.