Hehe....I was singing in my bedroom today which has a chest level window that is abou 6 feet tall and four feet wide. Anyway, it is the best sources of light and really a room changer but I often am self-conscious of people being able to see me outside. Anyway, today I was singing when a relatively young lady walked by,....I am assuming heard me...and made eye-contact/smiled/laughed at me. There did not appear to be any mallice in it and she attempted to point me out to an older lady and child who were with me but they didn't really look in.

So....I smiled back...haha, and never paused in my singing.

I read Venus and Adonis by Shakespeare today. It is 1194 lines long and is probably the longest poem I have ever read in one sitting (though I did pause for dinner) and wow...reading Shakespeare with an adult mind really is wonderful. I had been wanting to revisit Shakespeare, who I had not read in any large quantity since highschool and am blessed to have a copy of his complete works in the room I am subletting. I really do love poetry, so I should definitely delve more into him. I finished Song of myself and have been enjoying a bi-lingual anthology of German poets Miriam gave me, but Shakespeare seems like a bastion who I really should familiarize myself with.

Singing is going decently I guess. I have really been enjoying The Four Voices of Man by Jerome Hines and am starting to become more more aware of the registration occurences (and more importantly finding/attempting to find ways to blend them.

Oh yeah, I got myself a copy of A Brief History of Everything by Ken Wilber and have really been enjoying it. I have had trouble as of late reading on airplanes but this last bout of travel I manage 65 pages of the book as well as nearly 4 movies (one of which was a very interesting German film calle Nordwand about early climbers in the Alps). Louise had suggested A Brief History to me during some rehearsal in Raitt in the last two years and I am really enjoying the perspectives and intellectual processes Mr. Wilber explores. So far, he has been summarizing expanding on many of the ideas that I have tossed around my head the last several years and am really enjoying it.

Tomorrow I travel to Berlin for a week long conference with Fulbright. I am really looking forward to seeing my Marburg buddies again and am finally excited for a bit of tourism. I think that once the weather improves as well, I will begin to travel far more in Baden-Württemberg. It is not terribly appealing at this point to travel an hour or more by train to seek refuge from the rain in a cafe in another city.

Even the German's are saying this rain is going on unusually long. I think everyone is hungry for spring. I saw some tulips starting to sprout in the grass in an intersection! A taste of things to come :-)

Playful Poetry

I have the most terrible luck with writing posts and then my computer collapsing. Oh well. Anyway, being home was wonderful and made me excited for next year. I had been really starting to question if I was making the right choice and I think choosing love and happiness (and an excellent teacher who I really get along with well) over a big name school is an excellent choice. My father's surgery went really well and he started working from home yesterday. I am so glad I got to be home for it. That roughly sums up my break.

Here are some poems I scribbled down today. As usual, these are half a joke...I think it is due to me not believing I am a good enough poet to write truly subtle and serious poetry, but there are few things I enjoy more than writing poems, so this is the outcome. I rarely ever know the outcome when I start one...somehow it usually leads to a good button. A button in improv is a good last line after which the ref would blow the whistle...I don't know if anyone else uses that term...hmm...

I.

A great poet, his soul reflects.
Within his lines he introspects
And outrospects, if such words were.
Or what if he were truly her?
And kept her greatness out of sight.
What if this poet could not write!
And want for words she’d whistle tunes
And walk around in pantaloons.
Then everyone would call her he.
Oh, what a mess it all would be!
And not a soul would ever know it:
He is one great lady poet.

II. (Note...the use of the name keith was merely due to it's mono-syllabic nature and because I did not want to offend any Tims, Jims or Jacks. Lynn was truly tempting though the attempt at internal rhyme seemed too obvious. Also, I don't believe there is much poetry with the name Keith....but now there's one. Though honestly the initial thought that inspired the poem was my accomadating nature, which has become increasingly predominant in Germany this year.)

Keith was good at fitting in.
He never cried or made a din.
And every day while at his school
Keith would follow every rule.

He wouldn’t bark, bicker or bite.
He just kept quiet, out of sight.
His teachers might have noticed him
But he seemed neither smart nor dim.

And when he took a music test
He never scored above the rest.
He had a great affinity
For middle C, that’s what he’d be.

He could have made his grades much higher
But Keith wanted, like his attire
To blend into the swarming mass
And little Keith did always pass.

He would appease most everyone.
I’m not sure if he found it fun
Or simply better so to be
And not descent, but to agree.

Keith would never gawk nor gall.
He rather didn’t much at all.
And yet, I think he did a bit
But no one ever noticed it.

No one knew he’d joined the room
And if a fire spelled certain doom
The firefighters would have missed
This little boy, you get the gist.

And gradually young Keith grew older.
I dare not saw he grew much bolder.
He just went quietly on his way
And never really had a say.

One day Keith walked into a crowd
And heard that Keiths were not allowed
And so he vanished on the spot
You saw him too, or did you not?

If I’m the only one to see
poor Keith, perhaps poor Keith is me?
Of course, this really can’t be true.
(The proof is simple, I think.
It is you.)

(Still on I go lest I forget

I have not reached the finish yet)
To see a man and look right through
is quite impossible to do.

Yet oft I wonder what fore me lies
And tip toes thoughtless through my eyes.
Oh what a waste the world to miss!
My greatest foe, I wish not this.