Satire Is Literary Awesomeness

I love you Clive hehe Took this from Mere Christianity...

"That is why a cold, self-righteous prig who goes regularly to church may be far nearer to hell than a prostitute. But, of course, it is better to be neither."

So this is taken completely out of context, but I smile whenever I read it. :) Satire is defined as "

the use of irony, sarcasm, ridicule, or the like, in exposing, denouncing, or deriding vice, folly, etc." Okay just that definition is enough to make me love the word and its uses! I find myself exposing my own self-righteous nature as I read his words and find enjoyment in "pointing the finger at someone else", but now that I ponder it further, I'm ruminating that it's not self-righteousness that motivates my excitement in using irony and sarcasm to denounce folly, it's my writerness combined with my God-inhabited heart. It's not condemnation, it's not even reprimanding or scolding. It's using the point of view, usually the opposite of your own, to simply state the disillusionment of it all. Satire is pretty much the epitome of literary and rhetoric cleverness. Ew, this has got me thinking about English class. Dangerous topic this is! Danger, danger Will Robinson! I just had to do that, that was completely called for :D

Tonight I'm praying to God to search my heart...this is referencing my recent listening to Hillsong United's latest CD..good stuff! And now I bid all you wonderful readers good night :)

Merely Marvelous

I know it seems that, if you look at the title of my previous post, that I am extremely uncreative but that is not the case. I just love the word "merely" and what is wrong with that? I say nothing. So there, haha and in yo face word haters! Although I'm pretty sure haters of words would be reading a blog...and if they are then they are lame and should just stop being so lame. These are the parts in my blog where I sound like I'm being mean, but I'm not. If you know me then you know I'm just being..well..me. And now I've managed to ramble on about absolutely nothing significant which is another thing I tend to do quite often next to kidding around in an aggressive tone. :D hehe I'm not making good progress on my reading Mere Christianity due to reality and the fact that I chose to take three AP classes this year (I'm still beating myself up for that, not going to stop until the year is over). Now I have to get off because my nagging mother and sister are yelling at me to stop blogging...oh well. Until next time!

Merely Me

Ew. I am disgusted with myself. Honestly, I am making a scrunched up face at myself while writing this. I haven't written for a week and it's gross. I CAN'T STAND THIS ABSURDITY!!! I need to write more often and there's nothing else to it. Writing is my therapy for life and my remedy for all that bad shtuff that goes on around me. Yes, I say stuff with a "h". It adds something...well... better to it, don't you think? Don't be weirded out, but I am typing this in my bathroom. It's the only peaceful place I can be at this time of night. That doesn't make any sense because the whole house is pretty much filled with the silence of...well..nothing. The bathroom is just one of those places where I can sit on the floor, or the bathtub, or on top of the counter and just be alone. My room is not sufficient because that would suggest that I am in some way ready to go to bed and I am not.

I started reading Mere Christianity a while back and still have yet to finish it (refer to first post, it explains my literary weirdness) and so I picked it up yesterday and intend to finish it this weekend. Probably not going to happen since I never get anything useful done on the weekend beside the usual cleaning of the bathroom and vacuuming the house while avoiding the concept of homework. So, C.S. Lewis, I am attempting to conquer your books, starting with Mere Christianity. So far, it's pretty much made me fall in love with you, man. Not in a weird, creepy, "hey he's like dead and all" way, like in a "omg he's completely marvelous" kind of way. When I actually read some of his intellectual and insightful words I will get back to you guys. Feel free to pretend to be interested/excited. Whoever is reading this, you're stupendous. :)

An Irrelevant Poem Written in English Class

I don't have the faintest idea why I haven't come to this conclusion before today: poetry calms me down. It relaxes me, soothes me, and gives me peace much like reading the Bible does. Today in English I had absolutely nothing to do (work in class? who ever heard of such a thing!) and I was bored beyond belief. I had a sheet of paper in front of me so I started doodling and somehow those atrocious, pathetic-looking doodles turned into a pathetic poem. I just wrote out of habit and it felt GOOD! I didn't have a particular reason or rhyme for my poem (hehe get it, rhyme!) and the metaphors leave something to be desired, but all in all it was a beautiful experience. I'm thinking, "Only a writer would say that!" So...I guess I can call myself a writer now. I decree from this moment on that anyone who finds pleasure in writing may call themselves a writer! Now since I told you the little story behind my poem, I suppose I should share it with you all (a.k.a the amazing, intelligent, and unbelievably wonderful people who are reading this). And remember, it's a poem that's pretty much really rough and super silly....

The world is a freeway
And you're in the fast lane
I'm a '60s beater barely chugging along

The world is a zoo
And you're the lion on display
I'm the kid who's barely tall enough to see over the fence

The world is a racetrack
And you're the Chevelle in the lead
I'm the clumsy member of the pit crew with no tools

The world is a skyscraper
And you're the best view from the top floor
I'm the dirty elevator that keeps breaking down

The world is a garden
And you're the prize-winning pumpkin
I'm the shriveled squash that's been taken over by worms

Ah, poetry :)

Poetry is a breath of fresh air on a hot summer's day! (I wish it were summer) I ran across this poem earlier and it may be my favorite love poem of all time.

Sonnet 43 - How do I love thee? Let me count the ways by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.