Eng Lit Blog

Ideal Grad 2004-2005

2005-06-08T23:33:00.000-07:00

Ideal Grad 2004-2005 024,
originally uploaded by vlai.

Once again, I'm posting on something that is currently happening in our lives..and as of yesterday night...the Grad of Ideal shall move on...

Being able to graduate is one of life's remarkable events, and I myself cherish it quite a bit...

So to go along with such a beauitful picture, there was a poem on the internt I found about graduation, and even if it sounds a little corny, I think it's pretty good. Especialyl like her short sentences that sum up to a larger image. Concise but vague, got to love those paradoxes!

http://www.poems-and-quotes.com/special/poems.php?id=387154

Graduation
by Amanda

The time has come for you to move on You look back to see your friends are long gone

Theres no turning back now The future is one step away

As you get on your knees and pray Thanking GOD for guiding you his way

Your Graduating now Keep your head high It's time to say bye

Time was slowly ticking But the 4 years went by fast Never forgetting the memories that once pasted

You open your eyes and see your dreams come true like a sky so blue

This is not the last day But a new Beginning

The door has open And life has embrace you with open arms

Congratulations again to the Ideal Grad 04-05 and wishing them the best of luck in the future.

bridal shower

2005-06-07T23:33:00.000-07:00

I just came back earlier this night from my uncle's bridal shower..(the one i'm going on the cruise for) and realized how much tim eand effort it takes to arrange something like this...and how it truly is touching when speeches are made. This is the most realistic to human emotion one can ever relate to...when the words that come out of their mouths aren't words, but expressions from the heart...sincere thanks, and grateful tears of joy

What really touched me about this poem is the conveying message of true love that is truly pure blessing and happiness. The last few weeks, my uncle has ahd arguments with the bride's side, and several times, he had called my dad in tears, and before Monday, had called off the entire trip. But after today, seeing the two of them together, and seeing them cry, I am so happy that things cleared up, for their tears couldn't lie how they truly felt for each other.

And this poem I think does exactly that. It pinpoints the need of persistence and determination, the faith that everything will work out...

And so to match a night of such nuptial merriment...i found this corresponding poem entitled

I'm Not Perfect.
http://www.best-love-poems.com/poems.php?id=385469
by JaJi

I`m sorry I`m not perfect
I can only be me,
I`m sorry I`m not perfect
Like the girl you want me to be

I`d give anything to make you
happyEven if it makes me sad,
I`d never do anything to hurt you
I don`t try to make you mad.

Sometimes you get angry
And we begin to fight,
Little do you know,
I cry myself to sleep at night

Sometimes I don`t know
Just what I did wrong,
I don`t understand
Why we don`t get along.

Every time we fight
I wish you could feel my heart break,
Sometimes I wonder
How much more my heart can take

Sometimes I get so angry
I don`t know what to say,
I feel just like a game
That everyone wants to play.

The only thing I need in this world
Is someone who is true,
The only thing I want in this world...
Is to be loved by you.

I'm leaving on a cruise ship...

2005-06-06T23:39:00.000-07:00

40
Originally uploaded by vlai.

June 6th. Sigh. I'm really confused whether I should be excited about the trip, or slightly frustrated with the increasing stress because of having to leave early...As a result...I'm procrastinating, prioritizing...and at the same time, trying to figure things out..

So instead of looking for a poem on the internet which I just tried (ironic), I'm gonna write a few sentences on how I feel right now...relating to teh cruise and school and everything else that's piling up on my plate..The name of this piece

Message in a Bottle

All the hardwork, 17 years.

Finally a break, a trip, a getaway from everything

But who would I talk to? Who's there by my side...

don't want to bother parents

I can figure it out myself

I have to.

I don't want them to worry about me,

there's too much trouble, things will work out

I'll manage to keep it up...somehow

I have to.

This is what I've always done

This is who I am.

I'd rather inflict the pain on myself

then let it out on those around me

If this was a message I sent out to sea

I'd wish it come floating back

So that I could pity, relate, and understand that same person..

who sent this message

In a Bottle out to sea.

Here are some other pictures

http://flickr.com/photos/71434722@N00/17949987/

http://flickr.com/photos/71434722@N00/17949985/

http://flickr.com/photos/71434722@N00/17949984/

http://flickr.com/photos/71434722@N00/17949983/

http://flickr.com/photos/71434722@N00/17949982/

http://flickr.com/photos/71434722@N00/17948508/

today's poem

2005-06-05T22:36:00.000-07:00

http://www.poems.com/today.htm

After coming back from Campbell River tonight, I discovered I just wanted to see what today's poem would be, and voila, it turns out to be Two seperate poems by Stephen Dobyns. However, I like the first one more, as it seems to somewhat fit how I feel...

What I like about it was that although broken up into distinct paragraphs, the end of each connects to the beginning of the next, and serves as a neat transition. It is brief but direct, and the use of vocabulary is select, and works very well with the imagery. It focuses a lot on the angelic ora. I like how Stephen uses short sentences and even questions in this poem. It has an inquiring yet grasping effect being realistic, and really wraps it up nicely.

The title of the poem is..

The Birth of Angels

The heavy-lidded enterprise of the dead
begins with forgetting, ends with forgotten.
Like smoke, so thick at first but higher
just a wisp, until it is indistinguishable

from air. The move from youth to old age,
doesn't it resemble falling, a leaf descending
from white birch to front lawn? You think
it drifts slowly? It plummets. And this well-

dressed elderly man crossing against the light.
At the curb he puts a hand to his chest. He feel
sa fluttering which suggests the birth of angels:
a sudden consciousness, the thrashing of wings.

LitBlog Rating: %%%% I think it is fairly compact and well written. I really like the sense of imagery using colors and motion...and suits to be poem of today...sunday the 5th!

good old Roald Dahl

2005-06-03T01:02:00.000-07:00

Ah...tis the eye of childhood that paints the devil or something rather..
or is it the TV?

Remember the great days of Roald Dahl's novels like the Witch, the Twit, George's Medicine...well I found a poem of his about our beloved tv and it turns out to be as good as his books. The style, the format, the words, exactly how you'd expect it to be. Entertaining, full of imagination, yet at the same time, having exactly eight syllables to every line, giving it that smooth rhythmic flow...

I think that it's a well written poem...he gets his point right accross in a clever and sarcastic way, and its effective. Criticizing reality and bringing up the past are simple but effective ways in re-educating ourselves, and reminding how things used to be like. Books versus the TV, an interesting topic since Dahl was a writer in the 1900's it was basically the new TV era...

Maybe back then the programs weren't as informative but nowadays, some shows can be pretty knowledgable, well, in most cases, even this knowledge is screened and often distorted to the desired degree. In terms of creativity and imagination, no doubt the TV is incomparable to the book, where you tranform words into pictures, rather than be told what to think. Idealistically, the best way is to have a balance between the two, or to be safe from TV influence at all, like the poem, just throw it away, and in come the books!

"MIKE TEAVEE..."

The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!
'We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?
' Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/11627

Poetry Rating: %%%%1/2 It's well written and creative, helps to bring back the good old days, as he was known for children genre...but it's interesting reading one of his pieces as a teenager, there's definately a different feel...

up or down

2005-06-02T00:08:00.000-07:00

apartment pictures 035
Originally uploaded by vlai.

A view from a place semi familiar. Old yet new, new yet old. It's the view of an apartment on Georgia, and it's interesting what feeling and emotion it gives you in a busy area like downtown.

Here's a poem i made up on the spot..see what you think...open to crtiicism

I name it
One minute.

Slip away from restless crowd,
through soundproof doors, into lobby lift.
Ground floor...up up up
Ist floor, voices ring in back of head...
2nd floor, ora of cafe delicacies linger in air...
3rd floor, door opens, door closes...
4th floor, eyes fixated on glowing numbers...
5th floor, feet stand awkward in motionless stance...
6th floor, fingers twitch and tap about ...
7th floor, mind goes blank, calmness sets in...
8th floor, take one step closer to door...
9th floor, Ding, doors open.
down hallway, #909.
unlock door, approach window, deep breath, looking
down....
down...
down..

Lit-BLog Co-op

2005-06-01T01:04:00.000-07:00

http://lbc.typepad.com/

Now this is a well done Lit-blog.

Right off the back, by looking at the length of the post, you might be taken back a bit, but after reading the first paragraph, you know your in for a good blog. What I really like are all the different factors it took into account, such as that of the piece being translated from its original language. The many varying factors covered a broad area, yet at the same time, it was able to prove why it was so excellent. I especially enjoyed the thought she placed into it, relating it quite personally in terms of personal likings and dislikings, and how they helped to indicate how exceptional a piece of literature it is.

The format, wording is obvious that it is an experienced personnel in terms of similar blogs, and that her paragraphs are filled with intricate detail, and supporting facts, and really lashes out that PRO-livre, MUST READ style and perspective.

This is a true lit-blog.

LitBlog Rating: %%%%% In terms of the layout, it resembles much like a journal review or newspaper article, and could have some improvements. But overall, amazing. Well thought out, well written, clearly set acrross her point. BINGO

not so much...

2005-06-01T00:50:00.000-07:00

http://www.whatalovelywar.co.uk/10s/archives/002728.html

Ironically, this is an excellent example of a horrible Lit Blog. That's if you can even call it a Lit Blog. I believe this person had some mixed up ideas...since their post is the result of a survey to see which Chronicle of Narnia you are...and not a response to the Chronicles itself...as interesting as it may seem, it feels as if he/she is just advertising for the series and is a fan...maybe it would be slightly more relevant to the literary part if he/she had just added an opinion and not stated the result.

LitBlog Rating: 1/2 % obviously...this lit (lit) blog needs work,....

seeing

2005-05-31T01:27:00.000-07:00

Time for another quick poem...

I can see the future,
lying right at my feet

Do I kick it round a bit,
or let it sink beneath?

One little step at a time,
One little fall,

I could get back up on my feet,
or never get back up at all

a blog about lit blogs

2005-05-29T19:46:00.000-07:00

http://blog.monkeymask.net/archives/2004/08/10/16.01.24/

As my first post, i dedicate it to a blog where it wasn't a lit blog itself, but one that analyzed and criticized others. It was a short quick blog, but it's content was so true that I had to nod my head along the way in appreciation of the comments and the quote. It really gave me the "green light" as to what blogs are about, and how the effect of reflceting ideas brings forward a better discussion.

Even more interestingly, the blog had a quote of praising other lit blogs. What became qutie intersting were the comments received from readers, criticizing the poster's ability to criticize lit blogs because of certain grammatical errors. In response to this, another reader in defense argues that lit blogs are more related to underlying ideas, and that blogs are ways to express one's thought, and should be picked at with such detail.

Overall, I selected this blog because it generated the exact example of its post and quote, and ironically, it worked fairly well.

LitBlog rating: %%%% It could have been a little more detailed in terms of specific blogs and techniques. A little vague, but the striking discussion was really got my full attention. It might not have been intended, but worked out really well...