Monday, August 21, 2006


There's a certain smell in my house here that reminds me of my brush with death in 2003.

Hooked up to a breathing machine, I play chess with myself, humming to myself a masterpiece in melody. I think this melody came to me in a dream, and it's the most haunting thing I've ever heard. It's early January and like most winters this one is moist. The Christmas decorations have been put away but my spoils (such as my magnetic chess set) are displayed prominantly around my room. I'm so tired of my long hair that I have my mom cut off a foot to give to locks of love, and suddenly, through my sickness, I feel liberated. I keep coughing and can never decide if I'm hot or cold. When I try to go to school again, my pants are falling off and I can barely endure all the excersise of walking from class to class.
*end flashback*

Haha... my bout with pneumonia was educational and interesting. I later found out that the melody I was obsessed with was from a Brahms symphony (on a CD I got for Christmas). I was quite disappointed to find out it wasn't my own making. Hopefully I won't ever be sick for two weeks again (it took be forever to be able to go back to track practice, but it turned out to be a good season for me anyhow).

1 comment:

Nectar said...

My father had a grade school assignment to write an original poem. He decided to write about stars. That night he sat down to ponder what to write.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star..."

That sounds good, he thought. Slowly, painfully, he wrote out the rest. After many corrections he came up with the following:

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!"

You can imagine how eager he was to share his poem with the class the next day. I think you can also imagine his embarrassment to learn that he was not the first to invent the poem. It had been around for more than 100 years.