"When I Heard the Learned Astronomer" by Walt Whitman

"When I heard the learn’d astronomer;

When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;

When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;

When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the

lecture-room,

How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;

Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself,

In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,

Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars."

I like this poem because it shows how people can occasionally focus too much on the complicated parts of life. The astronomer and his colleagues are all focused on simply increasing their knowledge base about the stars, and don't pay much attention to the stars themselves. Meanwhile, the narrator finds that the lecture is too much for him. Unlike the astronomers, he is able to go outside and marvel at the stars on a clear night, without worrying so much about all the science going on behind them. Sometimes simplicity makes it easier to enjoy the little things in life, such as looking up as the stars.

"It is difficult to get the news from poetry, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there."-William Carlos Williams

What this quote is saying, in my opinion, is that poetry provides something that can't be found anywhere else in life. When it says men die miserably every day, the word "miserably" is key. The do not actually die; this is only figuratively speaking. Rather, part of their person is dying. The happiness and fulfillment they could obtain from reading poetry is lost when they do not read it. In other words, "a life without poetry is a life unfulfilled."

Success

This time around, I have been asked to assume two things:

1) I am 40 years older.

2) I am successful.

After these two, I have been asked to define my success. This is a tough one, but I'll do my best to simplify it.

Sure, my book has been a bestseller. I have enough money to live comfortably, and I can satiate all of my hockey and music desires. Furthermore, I'm a volunteer fireman, and I take pride in helping out society.

However, while all of these things can comfort me, I may be being a little too materialistic. What matters isn't that my life is full of happiness, but that I haven't wasted any time. I'm not saying I have no regrets, but everything I have done, I have done with 100% effort.

Show, Don't Tell

Here's a little treat for my readers out there, wherever you are:

They smell terrible. The sweat of last season seems to have made a home within their worn seams. I'm afraid that if I put them on, it will be impossible to erase their stench from my skin. A quick test tells me I'm correct, and I try to suffocate my hands in soap. Even worse, the padding is starting to deteriorate. It feels soft and comfy, but I know it just means they're on their deathbed. They're falling apart before my eyes, and soon they'll be illegal to wear in games. I'll order a new pair soon. For now, I'll just have to resist my desire to vomit and make sure I wash my hands after wearing them.

It sits there in my basement, all by its lonesome. The cool feel of the metal stays with my hands for a few moments after I pull away. I pick up the smooth wooden sticks and bang them together a few times in anticipation. Its round face stares back at me, and I begin to picture a yellow smiley face in the middle. Suddenly I'm hitting it like there's no tomorrow. I have no training, and my attacks have no rhythm or purpose. The only thing apparent is the unmatched fury of the sticks, cutting through the air like a knife as the assault on my ears continue. Eventually, it becomes too much, and the shouting stops the second I drop the sticks. If only I had a few more to hit. Then the senseless banging might someday sound cohesive.

There was really only supposed to be one of those, but I wanted to write two to see if one was phenomenal. Decide for yourself whether they're good or not.

Dirty Little Secret

No, not the All-American Rejects song.

Instead, I'm going to discuss a bad secret I once kept. It is especially appropriate that I do so considering how secrets relate to the plot of The Scarlet Letter, the book I am currently reading. However, I won't be revealing the contents of the secret, so if you're looking for details, you shall find none here.

My secret was and still isn't particularly bad. Unfortunately, though, it's difficult to keep, and I occasionally have trouble restraining my true feelings. Thankfully, though, I have people to confide in that sometimes find themselves in a situation similar to mine. Regardless, I'd be better off not having to keep it, and hopefully I can rid myself of it someday. The day will come sooner or later, and when it does, I have the comfort of knowing I will be able to admit to it without holding anything back.

New Year's Resolution

My New Year's Resolution is to become a better guitarist. Maybe I don't give myself enough credit, but if I am going to be in a band, I don't want to feel like I'm letting them down by simply not being good enough. Therefore, I plan on practicing more and improving my speed and soloing. This way I won't be embarrassed when trying to perform with the band.

Winter Poem: "Dust and Snow"

"The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued."

-Robert Frost