I Love You:

The feminine urge to say “have you no compassion for my poor nerves” every time something goes wrong with my life

I wish I new more people who were nerds like me. I want someone to rant to me about their obsession with some sub-field of science. I want to rant to them about my obsession with space and physics and gravity and black holes. We can learn stuff and have fun at the same time. Is that too much to ask?

Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-- Dylan Thomas

Maybe this one's overrated, but it's my favorite.

there's something very lovely about doing homework in bed in the late afternoon on a sunday while listening to beatles records and having a pumpkin spice candle lit and the sunlight slanting golden in through the window and the wind blowing and the bright red leaves on the trees and feeling very productive and peaceful and happy

"You have gained a new source of enjoyment, and it is well to have as many holds upon happiness as possible."

-- Jane Austen (Northanger Abbey)

Why are you watching your cellphone

when there are so many stars in the sky?

i want to be inconvenienced by you. i want to wait for you, i want to hold your things while you do something else, i want to make adjustments to my plans to make space for you. someone at your side who takes up no space and has no needs of their own is not a person, but a shadow. i don't want a shadow, i want you. i want my life to be altered by your presence in it. please, inconvenience me.

Failure is not an option desktop wallpaper

Images taken from Visions of the Future

I was thinking about how poetry is all about the human experience, and that led to wondering about experiences that most people don't get to have. This all led me to wondering whether there were any poems written by astronauts, and I found this one, which I thought I'd share.

Last Day in Space

Tomorrow we light our rocket,           we burn our engines and likewise,                    burn a hole in the sky,                              And thus fall to Earth. How does one spend your last day in space?           Looking at Earth,                    a blue jewel surrounded by inky blackness,                              Pure Occipital Ecstasy. Unconstrained by your girth,           you fly with vestigial wings. The atmosphere on edge,           iridescent blue with no earthly parallel,                    Electrifying Diaphanous Beauty. Guarded by Sirens of Space,           singing saccharine songs,                    beckoning you to crash on the atmos-reef which tears you limb from limb                    and scorching what remains                             into cosmic croutons that sprinkle onto                                        the garden salad of Earth. One last feast out the window,           A looking glass of Wonderland. Offering both a portal to see your world,                    and a translucent reflection to see yourself. Contemplation;           what is your place in this world below,                    how do you change it,                              how does it change you. We are wedded to this planet,           until mass extinction we do part.                    Perhaps one planet is not enough. You study your charts,           we prepare our spaceship,                    and our minds. We make ready our descent,           into these seemingly gentle arms. The eager anticipation of hugging your wife,           your boys with grins followed by pouting faces,                    both excited to see you but not understanding why you left. Oh how does one spend your last day in Space.           What would you do?

-- Donald R. Pettit

(A NASA astronaut who has been on three space flights, with 370 days in space. I found this poem on the NASA website.)

my tbr is sitting at 22 books right now, and I don't know how I'm ever going to read them all because I keep buying more and more and more and more and more