Monday, December 15, 2008

excerpt from "A Song of Joys" - Walt Whitman

Yet O my soul supreme!
Knowist thou the joys of pensive thought?
Joys of the free and lonesome heart, the tender, gloomy heart?
Joys of the solitary walk, the spirit bow'd yet proud, the suffering
and the struggle?
The agonistic throes, the ecstasies, joys of the solemn musings day
or night?
Joys of the thought of Death, the great spheres Time and Space?
Prophetic joys of better, loftier love's ideals, the divine wife,
the sweet, eternal, perfect comrade?
Joys all thine own undying one, joys worthy thee O soul.

Friday, November 7, 2008

Motif

Miserere mei, Deus: secundum magnam misericordiam tuam.
Pity me, O God, according to your great mercy

Et secundum multitudinem miserationum tuarum, dēlē iniquitatem meam.
And according to your great compassion, remove my iniquities

Amplius lavā me ab iniquitate mea: et a peccato meo mundā me.
Wash me from my iniquities: and cleanse me from my sins

Quoniam iniquitatem meam ego cognōscō: et peccatum meum contra me est semper.
Because I know of my iniquities: and my sin is always against me.

Tibi soli peccāvī, et malum coram te fēcī: ut iustificeris in sermonibus tuis, et vincās cum iudicaris.
I have made the mistake to you alone, and I have openly done evil by you: so that you justify in your sermons, and you overcome when you judge.

Ecce enim in inquitatibus conceptus sum: et in peccatis concepit me mater mea.
Behold indeed I have been conceived in iniquities: and in sinfulness my mother conceived me

Ecce enim veritatem dilexisti: incerta et occulta sapientiae tuae manifestasti mihi.
Behold indeed I have esteemed the truth: you have revealed to me the uncertain and secret things of wisdom.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Virtue

SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright!
The bridal of the earth and sky--
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.

-George Herbert

I wish this R. Vaughan Williams character actually included the 2nd stanza of this poem in his piece "Sweet Day". Ugh, and even more so, I wish he actually kept the real title for the poem. I saw no need to change it. Was it convenience? We'll never know.

Herbert' exploration of the ephemeral human life is probably a common theme in his life, considering he left his comfortable parliamentary job to enter the priesthood, his original intention. In this poem, He discusses three things of nature - days, roses, and spring - that are only doomed to die.

In the first stanza, the day "fall[s] tonight". Daylight only lasts for so long. And as the sun rotates in the sky, the day must also turn into night. Humanity works in cycles, too. Dawn, high noon, dusk/twilight - all are metaphors commonly used to describe a period in a person's life. And I'm not sure whether it's "punny" that he describes the "dew" as "weeping", for the dew itself is... wetness. Maybe the evening dew will resort to proliferating itself as a signal of its sorrow. But I dunno, just the personification of "weeping dew" is striking and gives the reader pause.

The rose is, like a human, an organic substance, of the earth and having the ability to reproduce. I'm not really sure what to make of the clause "whose...eye". I'll research that later. But the most striking part of this stanza is the phrase "thy root is forever in its grave". Roses, unlike humans, are not ambulatory creatures. Where they are planted, there they die, also. But maybe we're akin in that we are born in these bodies and die in these bodies. We die as we exist, and we're unable to escape our own fate because we're born into it. Our "roots" are in our own frail mortal bodies, frail and impeding.

"Sweet spring" is described by the two succeeding appositives. The first contains the two elements described the preceding stanzas, and the other is a more definite appositive metaphor, comparing "spring" to a "box of sweets". The image of spring being a "box of sweets" is further reinforced in the pun "closes". A box, of course, opens and closes. But this word also serves a dual purpose in playing off the "music" reference in its definition as a musical term, meaning stopping of a phrase of music in a piece. "Closes", like "fall" and "grave", it serves as the indicator of ending and death. The speaker changes subject of the final clause from singular to "all", since he states that spring contains both the metaphysical element of "day" and the organic element of the "rose".

I'm not too sure what to make of the last stanza. He's obviously commenting on the endurance of humanity, being able to live on like "seasoned timber". But I don't want to attempt analysis right now.

If I knew more music theory, I definitely would enjoy/be better at analyzing the poem contextually as a musical piece. I guess there are some obvious elements there, like decrescendo-ing on all the parts with the word "die". Is Vaughan trying to be ironic that we end the quietest (pppp) on "lives"? He probably just wanted to sound better overall, rather than put too much effort in adapting the lyrics musically. Probably the only other things I can point out is the breath at the end of "closes" (ha! because its a partial close!) and the mood change of the last stanza, which is very different from the earlier ones. Hm. Hopefully I can get more out of this musically. I'll probably ask Brendan about certain chords and stuff tomorrow when he comes over.

I miss English classes. Le sigh.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Brighten Your Day

Go to Google Maps Streetview
1642 Charleston Rd. Mountain View, CA
In front of the big glass building.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Worth

I went to visit my old high school today to meet up with a teacher I've been in contact with during my first of college.

It was nice knowing that what I've learned can help people go through Mercy with a better, more enriching experience.

It was also wonderful knowing that someone is interested in your experiences and wants to pick your brain.

So this is what it feels to be on the other side of my usual personality - the direct object instead of the subject. Or am I the indirect object? Yes, the indirect object.

I like being asked questions. Good ones. Thought-provoking ones.

I hope I can be as successful in a classroom as I am one-on-one with people.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Journals

Ever since I was a little girl, I've had an obsession with collecting empty notebooks and journals. I'd always imagine myself buying one, filling it with all my hopes and dreams then packing it away to read on a rainy day ten years from now, whether that reading was done by me or maybe my future children who happen to chance upon a box of forgotten but cherished things.

I think that if I write in a journal, I'll think too much about it, like how I think too much about everything I do. Because I want it to be honest, yet readable not only for myself but for my children later in the future who I hope will find it. I would want them to know that everything they're going through has been "gone through" before by thousands of generations before them.I would feel cheap writing to an audience even though it's supposed to be a private matter, but I can't help but think that whatever I would want to write down in the pages of forever would be readable. I guess it follows the type of "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say it at all" exercise. Once you write something down, it's your opinion made. Permanent and unable to be taken back, written language is official, because it can't be denied and suppressed like inner thoughts and opinions. I suppose that's why written language can be one of the greatest weapons in person's sort of metaphysical arsenal.


Journals should be more than just your daily happenings and events, like a Xanga blog or a transcript of what you tell your BFF on the phone late at night. It's more than just an itinerary. It should be a record of your philosophy on life. What you think, why you think it, and whether the people you hang out with think the same way. And since your philosophies are put in context of your then-current routine lifestyle, you can look back at any entry and see what kind of person you were existing as at that point in time. And I think that's important. Journals are recorded in real time, too. So the writing is raw and real and without the filter of a 'jaded' existence. It's important to see where you've come from, where you are right now, and see the progression (or maybe regression) in getting there.

The measure of a human life is progress. Journals record that. Why do you think it's so hard to read through Xanga entries or recount the memories of middle school with old friends? Because you've realized what you used to be compared to who you are now. If a man wrote an entry for every day of his life, and read this on his deathbed, he should feel proud of himself and satisfied. That's my philosophy on life.

When I have enough money one day, I'll go out to a bookstore and buy the perfect journal. It'd be leatherbound and soft. The margins would be just perfect, and bound in a way that I wouldn't have to struggle making it lay flat. It would pay for itself through sentimental interest rates, because the longer I keep it and keep writing in it, the more it'll be worth to me, for I hold sentimental value much more above monetary 8 days a week.

And then the curiosity will take the best of my future child, who will one day wander into the garage to look through the loads of unmarked boxes, and spend his entire afternoon reading about how strange yet familiar his mom sounded during her college years. And because of a decision his mom made years ago, he would forever continue to look at her with just another small yet significant dimension that wouldn't have been there before.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

are there lilac trees in the heart of town?

I think I need a hobby. But not a new one. I suppose you can call me a Jackie of All Trades because I know an adequate amount of information on a lot of subjects, but not enough to make it something I really stick to. I suppose blogging can be a hobby, but hardly anyone reads my blogs and I don't blog about anything interesting. Case in point, this will just be a list of things I'm gonna consider picking up again. I don't know why I'm blogging this, but it's too late to delete it now!

Things I can pick up (again)
Photography
Astronomy
Guitar
Crafting
Knitting
Cooking
Songwriting
Poetry
Silkscreening T-shirts
Doing stupid things to my computer

Things I can learn:
Blogging about something consistently interesting
Baking/The art of confections
Video blogging (ugh)
Sewing
Crocheting

hrm... choices...

Friday, August 1, 2008

Need: Musical switch, $25 OBO

4:07am

I wish I could quit learning about all things music. All of it. Right this very second. I don't want to learn any more. I don't want to know any more. And if I had another wish, I wish I could go back to... the end of my senior year, where I discovered vocal jazz music and became an equal-opportunity-listener of all things classical. Where the only choral, or even just serious music I've dealt with was Tri-School Chorus. My brain would be void of everything...

I think its related to an issue we discussed at Voice Lab one day. Singing is easy. But its making music that's hard because it involves so many thought processes. The best singers have a thinking problem.

I don't really know what's happening to me. I'm starting not to enjoy music the way I used to. I'm not even sure if I really enjoy it now. Unlike 80% of my friends, I didn't grow up playing an instrument. I wasn't shoved into piano lessons or flute lessons at 6 years old. I really knew nothing about music until about 5 years ago, and never really became self-aware until less than that. It's a strange term -- "self-aware". It's what you and Asimov fear Robots will do before they take over the world. But it's an appropriate term, because there is a huge difference between "knowing" something and "realizing" something.

But anyway.

When I actually did start exploring the worlds of classical and jazz on my own, it was like being in Europe without a map or a guide. Through pop culture, I knew all the big, famous composers and artists. Even recognized some of their major works. But Europe is so much more than its famous landmarks, just as music is so much more than its celebrities. It was discovering the famous cities and civilizations as well as the little towns and villages and alleyway eateries where all the locals go to. I would learn things here and there through friends and mentors, but it only chipped away at the wonder and awe I felt as I wandered around.

Ignorance really is bliss. Because as the saying goes with all art, "I don't know what this is, but I know what I like." I enjoyed every concert or recording or radio broadcast I heard. With a bad ear and no real technical knowledge of music, I just loved whatever was played for me and never really thought too much about it. Of course, people have their own tastes (I never really liked that experimental jazz crap they play on KCSM after midnight), but I wasn't ever really too picky about anything.

Because I was absolutely ignorant about anything musical, it didn't take much to please me. In fact, it was something I was proud of. I used to sit next to Brendan when he had to do performance evaluations on the concerts we'd go to. And I thought to myself, "Man, I don't know what the hell he's talking about. But good thing I don't know, because I wouldn't be able to enjoy this performance."

But the exact thing has happened to me. With all this wonderful knowledge comes the hardened task of having to bear it with you through every concert, recital, performance, etc. Maybe it's a burden I have to bear, or a switch I haven't yet learned to turn off. But I can't listen to a piece of music and just enjoy it. You know, enjoying the moment of sitting and relaxing and letting the music just flush over you. Nope, those days are over. I've lost a bit of ignorant wonder when it comes to music, especially classical. My brain is constantly analyzing, interpreting, evaluating, and -inging everything it can all at one time. It would be automatic because, of course, it was how I was trained to listen. And it's frustrating since,as with any type of art, the more about technique and skill you know and recognize, the easier it is to notice when people don't have it. Further, because I didn't grow up with a musical background, I'm definitely not used this kind of constant analysis.

Still, maybe I'm looking at it the wrong way. Maybe the enjoyment becomes replaced with other things that come with musical knowledge, like recognizing when the composer or conductor or choir or whatever does something awesome and you're like, "Yeah! Kickass!" Those little moments of awesome when you hear a chord sung really well or when you're in a church where the dynamics are supposed to be ppp and you open your mouth and they sound forte. I suppose that's a type of joy you can only experience with knowledge of the art.

I don't know what I'm rambling about. Scarily, it sounds like I hate... knowing things. What's worse, it's gaining deeper knowledge of something I really love. But that's not the case. I'm just shaken by the fact that I can't listen to music the way I used to anymore. As a musician, that's awesome. That means I'm learning and applying. But as a casual listener (which I guess I'm not anymore, like a solider/civilian), it sucks.I guess what I really want is a switch in my brain where I can shut down everything musical I've learned when I want to, and switch it on when I need it. There's times where that knowledge is definitely advantageous, and there's times where I just want to chop my head off but leave my ears.

And although anatomically and physically that isn't possible, we can all wish for something, right?

4:56am

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Oh elementary school...

Dear Holy Angels,

In 2003, I auditioned to be part of your choir. Out of the 9 girls from my class who auditioned, I was the only one rejected. Dozens of performances, 5 musicals, 3 choirs, and 1.5 vocal teachers later, I am leaving next Thursday for Wales to tour and compete in an international choral competition with my college-level choir.

I didn't make it in then. But look at me now.

Suck it,
Elizabeth Lopez c/o '03

Sunday, June 22, 2008

In the spirit of David Horovitz

If you leave me a comment or message me your mailing address, I will send you a photograph I have taken. They're mostly scenic, still life, or black and white pictures. They were taken with a variety of old, analog cameras with REAL FILM.

I will mail you a photo, and you will be the only person in the world to own that photograph.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

paradigm shift

For the first time in my life, I have to look back at myself and say, "I couldn't do it."

Childish, huh? But for someone who tries their hardest to do everything, it's one of the most difficult things you'll ever utter. It's not admitting a simple inability to do something. It's more complicated than that. I wouldn't be ashamed telling people, "I don't know how to build a computer." But it's hard to admit that you couldn't take the leap of faith to go and plow through difficult times, and instead take the easy way out and opt out of the pain. And then again, it's more complicated than that. Although I am taking the easy way out, it seems to be more beneficial to me than going through the pain and the ordeal of the situation in the first place. But still, goodness is relative. What people might think is good might be the worst thing imaginable for me. I guess the question is, "Is the pain worth what I'm getting in the end, or is opting out of the pain worth saving the good that has not yet been tampered?"

I know it's going to haunt me. I know its going to hurt. I'll look back and look down on myself for giving up. And I'll always be afraid that everyone will share that opinion of me, especially when it's one I don't agree with. Many have done it, but I couldn't. I'll see them every day as a kind of a sick reminder of the standards I was not able to reach, for them and for myself.

It's always hard admitting a weakness of yourself, even though that weakness reflects a much larger strength you've come to realize in the process.

I can continue acting in a rebel defiance. I can hold a big middle finger up to the world and exclaim, "Screw you! Look at me now!" I can shut myself up in a hole and never speak of these hardships aloud. I can repress the anger and the frustration, too. Man faces so many choices when confronted with one, singular issue. It's what creates humanity, what separates us from the animals, who too have personalities and emotions and feelings. It's the fact that we are able to recognize our choices in a situation and reflect on the consequences of each decision. My Latin teacher has always said that forming conjunction clauses into sentences separates us from the monkeys. No. It's more than that. Humanity consists of being able to take a step back and fully reflect oneself and one's own existence.

But for now, I'll do both. I'll conjunct clauses and reflect my decisions.

I guess we can call that...growing up.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Really? Really? Come on...

Dear not-black afro-headed guy who's always one row in front of me in PolSci 31a,

Every day. EVERY DAY. I see you. I'm right behind you. You and your stupid anime desktop background. On Facebook. THE WHOLE ENTIRE CLASS. Why? Why bother coming to class? Are you a frackin' amoeba or something? Learning through osmosis?

You're so distracting. I lie, you're not on Facebook the whole time. Nope. Today, you spent a good hour looking at "fail" pictures. Really? REALLY? Can't you go on Reddit or 4chan on your own time? Ha, you think people don't notice what you're really doing. If you want anonymity and privacy in a classroom, sit in the back row where no one can watch you from behind. I notice. I notice everything. How you looked up "fail" under Google images. How you chuckle to yourself and command-click to save those pictures into you're "funny pictures" folder on your hard-drive. Pathetic! You keep a funny pictures folder? What are you, like 10? "HA-HA LOLCAT! I'm gonna save this one so that my offspring can LOL too!" Ugh. Maybe you make a whole collage of them and put them up on your wall, or maybe recycle them onto forum posts filled with the pictures that you've already saved (because I've seen you go backwards from the last page of a forum post filled with those damnn lolcat and fail pictures and brick-shitting pictures. why? WHY?)

When you chuckle to yourself, you're head of unwashed fluff just bounces up and down, irritating your scalp so that you have to scratch it every 15 minutes. Please take a shower before class. Thanks.

I wonder what grade you have in that class. I hope you're failing, because you definitely don't deserve whatever grade you're getting other than bad.

The only thing that would make you worse was if you're some genius kid who DOES in fact learn by osmosis. Please let me punch you in the face.

But for now, keep googling "fail" pictures and we'll see who aces the final. Tard.

Person who wants to scratch the hair off your head,
Liz

Saturday, May 3, 2008

i need this weekend

the week from hell is over!!!!

after a bunch of things that have happened over the past few weeks... loves and hates... fights and reunions... i see myself in a cycle. and it'll just keep continuing unless i somehow learn how to stop it.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Desidero te.

Desidero te. Omnes dies. Sed, ubi? Sum non posse invenire te.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

God Has the Biggest Sense of Humor

I need to stop being an overachieving Asian.

I can't stop. I can't stop. I can't stop. Too much. Not enough. Can't handle. Can't handle.

Someone had a stick up their butt today.

I am "interesting." But how? How much? Too much? Not enough.

Facepalm. Headdesk. Can't. Can't. Can't.

But woah. Overflow. Big bites, late nights. Late late gonna break. Gonna break, gonna break.

You. You. Why you? Why not him? Why not her? Share? I don't want to. Mine, mine not yours. Whose?

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Reason I miss Mercy #2

College kids are still stuck in the self-consciousness of high school, caring about "looking stupid" or having a dumb answer. I miss having classes at Mercy where people always had something to say, where we would have to wait for our turn to give our opinion and answer the questions our teachers ask us. Damnit, if you have an opinion or an answer, spit it out! Transitioning from a classroom where people are eager to answer to one where people don't want to say ANYTHING is so FRUSTRATING. I feel like I need to answer the questions because hell, I wouldn't want anyone to actually participate in class. Oh no, that's not what cool kids do. They let the silence bleed into our ears and make everyone uncomfortable, especially the teachers who are trying so hard to make people speak. Comeon! You're in college because you're smart, you obviously have some sort of opinion. GAHD! Just... stop being so self conscious and get over yourselves and act like an intelligent person.

/rant.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

I'm bigger than my body gives me credit for...

This quarter is going to be different. I can tell. I can feel it in the air. There's no point in going to college if you don't go out and try new things. Then it's just living the same life, but 400 miles away. No. I won't let that happen to me. New quarter. New beginnings. I'm just itching to do something, anything. It's just... AHHH let me be! Let me be! Don't hold me back, Irvine bubble. I WILL BREAK YOU.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

EPIC FAIL

Windows Mobile 6.1 JUST GOT RELEASED TODAY.

THE DAY AFTER my phone got stolen.

*cries*

Gizmodo even uses my phone to display the upgrade goodness...

*sobs*

Monday, March 31, 2008

How Liz Fails This Week

-Her phone got stolen in Brandywine (CURSE YOU!)
-Being a total n00b at work today
-Was not a good friend
-Picked a WEIRD ASS discussion leader...
-HER LINUX COMPUTER GOT HACKED. FIREFOX GOT HACKED and ITS DRIVING HER CRAZY

I'm just going to go cry in a corner now. If you would like to reach her, go via facebook (it's now a necessity), IM, or email.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Closing Thoughts

Photobucket

Technological Conundrum

When you feel like you can recharge your batteries by unplugging yourself.

Think about that one.

The Jelly Belly Factory

You and I shall go to the Jelly Belly Factory and look at how those wonderful bite-size pieces of heaven are made. Then we shall eat them one by one, and not in a giant mushy handfull, so that we could taste each individual flavor. You'll have a big bag of Grapefruit and Dr. Pepper, and I'll have one of Brownie and the Sour Flavors. And we will be perfect.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Sum

nihil. Sed semper amo te.

Monday, March 24, 2008

Importations over the Intarwebs

As all of you facebook constituents know, I like to write a lot. I probably have more notes than a lot of you combined. So I've decided to make a blogger account for the simple reason that one day, facebook is gonna suck and I'm going to leave it. So I'd rather have my notes stored somewhere else than here where it might one day all disappear.

So thanks for reading if you do and I hope to talk to you all later.

PS
RSS feed me. :)