“Write a song of Ithaca,
Write a song today!”

“What is there to write about?
How oft the skies are gray?”

“Write a song of Ithaca,
Write of the leaves that fall.”

“Walt won’t have written “Leaves of Grass”
If he had to sweep them all!”

“Write a song of Ithaca,
Write of the fallow deer!”

“Of fallow deer? My fellow men
Would laugh at me, I fear.”

“Write a song of Ithaca,
Of Christmas when it snows.”

“The white is not so sweet a sight
When it’s on your ears and nose!”

“Write a song of Ithaca;
At least, write one for me!”

“Ah! that I’ll do, for without you
I’d long have left for sea!”

Just some of the sweetest, cheesiest lyrics in our reading list. May contain traces of nuttiness! (and naughtiness, too!)

The premise of it all:

Life is a song, let’s sing it together.
Let’s take our hearts and dip them in rhyme.
Let’s learn the words, learn the music together,
Hoping the song lasts for a long, long time.

Why can’t I let you know
The song my heart would sing -
That beautiful rhapsody
Of love and youth and spring?
The music is sweet,
The words are true,
The song is you.

Weather seems to be a common topic…

Sunshine
Gives me a lovely day,
Moonlight
Gives me the milky way.

Ev’rything went wrong,
And the whole day long
I’d feel so blue.
For the longest while,
I’d forget to smile;
Then I met you.

How much do I love you?
I’ll tell you no lie,
How deep is the ocean,
How high is the sky?
How many times a day
Do I think of you?
How many roses
Are sprinkled with dew?

Isn’t this a lovely day
To be caught in the rain?
You were going on your way
Now you’ve got to remain.
But it really doesn’t matter
If the skies are gray;
Long as I can be with you,
It’s a lovely day.

… as does food:

I don’t need music, lobster or wine
Whenever your eyes look into mine.
The things I long for are simple and few:
A cup of coffee, a sandwich, and you!

You’re the cream in my coffee,
You’re the salt in my stew,
You will always be my necessity,
I’m lost without you.
You’re the starch in my collar,
You’re the lace in my shoe,
You will always be my necessity,
I’d be lost without you.

But of course, life’s not a bed of roses…

Weddings make a lot of people sad,
But if you’re not the groom they’re not so bad.

What’ll I do
When you
Are far
Away
And I
Am blue,
What’ll I do?
What’ll I do
When I
Am wond-
‘ring who
Is kiss-
ing you,
What’ll I do?

We all have dreams, it seems, of matrimony,
We wake from the dreams when we pay alimony.

There she is,
My old gal.
There he is,
My old pal.
And here am I
Broken hearted.

Must you dance quite so close
With your lips touching his face?
Can’t you see I’m longing to be in his place?
You’ve been locked in his arms
Ever since heaven knows when,
Won’t you change partners, and then
You may never want to change partners again.

…although some might think that love’s just a bed of Rose’s (and Mary’s and Jane’s and…)

Brush up your Shakespeare,
Start quoting him now.
Brush up your Shakespeare,
And the women will wow.
Better mention “The Merchant of Venice”
When her sweet pound o’ flesh you would menace.
If her virtue, at first, she defends – well,
Just remind her that “All’s well that ends well.”

Couldn’t sleep
And wouldn’t sleep
Until I could sleep where I shouldn’t sleep.

Ah, the number of ways to say a great or little thing:

Time is so old
And love is so brief.
Love is pure gold
And time is a thief.

Never swat a fly,
He may love another fly;
He may sit with her and sigh
The way I do with you.
Never harm a flea,
He may have a fav’rite she
That he bounces on his knee,
The way I do with you.

And when you run out of ideas,

I’ve studied all the rhymes that all the lovers sing;
Then just for you I wrote this little thing:
Blah blah blah blah moon,
Blah blah blah above;
Blah blah blah blah croon,
Blah blah blah blah love.
…
Blah blah blah your hair,
Blah blah blah your eyes;
Blah blah blah blah care,
Blah blah blah blah skies.

Nothing else for me to say,
And so I’ll close,
But by the way,
Ev’rybody’s thinking of you.
P.S. I love you.

-an ‘aiku

.

fall’s fallen feathers,

rust-red, rustling, readying

silent season’s seat.

Thursday, noon, the first flake falls;
A shift of wind, a change of clime;
Far and wide, the tower bell tolls,
“Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.”

Brown. How apt.

(I know this is already a few months after the incident, but I think most people should still be able to guess (no, not guess! positively know!) what incident I’m referring to…)

Beale Street Love

Langston Hughes

.

Love

Is a brown man’s fist

With hard knuckles

Crushing the lips,

Blackening the eyes, -

Hit me again,

Says Clorinda.

All it needs is a change in the last first name.

The result of my blues poem writing assignment:

(Based on The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock by T.S. Eliot (the man born in St. Louis), and blues tune along the lines of Empty Bed Blues)

J. Prufrock Blues

Ah tell ya this, I got dem Alfie P’ufrock blues,

Oh won’t you know, I got dem Alfie J. P’ufrock blues.

Got them way down from the guy ‘was born in St. Louis. ["Loos"]

.

See, I can read a book, but I can’t read no gal right.

Oh yeah I read dem books, but I can’t read no gal right.

Seems her pages keep turnin’, or else she’s a shut up tight.

.

Back when I was liddle, dem people use’ ta say,

Oh yeah when I was liddle, all dem people, dey say,

Be smart, young boy, and all the gals will come your way.

.

Well dey was wrong, was wrong as wrong can be,

Yeah dey was wrong, as wrong as wrong can be,

‘Cuz dem gals, dey sing, but dey will not sing to me.

.

I saw the gal of ma dreams, standin’ dere in da night,

Yeah the gal of ma dreams, boy, was she grand in dat light!

I shoulda’ spoke to her, I shoulda’, but in short, I was a too afright.

.

Well, I ain’t no Hamlet, ain’t no star a’ no scene.

I know I ain’t no Hamlet, I be here just to swell da scene.

I say I ain’t to be, an’ nevah will, an’ nevah been.

.

So ima justa foolin’ here, singin’ dem P’ufrock blues,

I’m just a fool in here, singin’ dem P’ufrock blues,

An’ I’ll sing dem all day long, ’till de day dat I get choosed.

Here’s my very first French essay! We’re supposed to write a story based on 2 characters in our textbook, a certain pupil named Hamlet, and his teacher. We have to introduce both characters, introduce a conflict, resolve that conflict in a humorous/ironic/philosophical/political manner. And due to linguistic limitations, we can only use words and phrases that we’ve been taught. Here’s the result, followed by an English translation (with attempts to preserve as much of the French syntax as possible without sacrificing grammar):

C’est l’élève Hamlet. Hamlet est un garçon petit, et il a sept ans. Il a les cheveux blonds et les yeux verts, et il aime aller au école. Vraiment, il ressemble à garçon typique, mais il ne comme pas tout le monde! Par exemple, «Hamlet» n’est pas son prénom vrai; il préfère s’appeler «le petit prince», mais à ses camarades de classe et son professeur, il s’appelle «le prince Hamlet» ou «Hamlet». Pourquoi? Je ne sais pas! Peut-être il ressemble le prince danois, mais il n’est pas danois! Au contraire, ne personne connais sa origine. Oui, Hamlet n’est pas typique!

Hamlet a un professeur. Il s’appelle Monsieur Tristan. M. Tristan est un homme gros, et il a peut-être cinquante ans. Il a pas beaucoup de cheveux, et ses cheveux gris. Il est très riche, mais il est très avare aussi. Ses étudiants détestent M. Tristan, car il est très sérieux et toujours triste. Il n’a pas de femme, et a pas beaucoup amis. Il n’aime pas les enfants, ses étudiants surtout! Hamlet, par contre, a beaucoup amis, car il est très sociable et sympathique, et il est jamais égoïste.

Un journée, M. Tristan pose un question à Hamlet:

– Hamlet, tu es toujours heureux. Pourquoi?

– Ben, je ne sais pas, Monsieur Tristan. Eh bien… mon père est très heureux, ma mère est très heureuse, et mes frères et sœurs sont très heureux aussi…

– Qui sont les membres de ta famille?

– Euh… mon père est les soleil, ma mère est la lune, et mes frères et sœurs sont…

– Les étoiles?

– Oui, professeur!

– Pas possible! Tu es dans les nuages! Est-ce que tu as un père et une mère? Réponde comme tout le monde!

– Oui, professeur. Mon père est les soleil, ma mère…

– Suffit. Tu n’as pas père ou mère, n’est-ce pas?

– Mais si, professeur! J’ai un père et une mère. Mon père est les soleil…

– Suffit, suffit! Je comprends. Tu es très optimiste… Je n’ai pas une famille, comme tu, mais tu n’est pas triste. Je, par contre, ne suis pas heureux.

– Mai non, Monsieur Tristan! Vous avez un père et des enfants!

– Hein?

– Le fils est le père de l’homme, n’est-ce pas?

– Euh… C’est vrai…

– Et nous, vos étudiants, somme vos enfants! Si vous aimez nous, nous aimons vous aussi.

– C’est vrai, c’est vrai… Hamlet, tu es petit, mais tu es très intelligent!

M. Tristan écoute Hamlet, et adore ses étudiants. Il est très généreux et sympathique aussi. Hamlet et ses camarades de classe sont très heureux, et adorent leurs professeur. Et M. Tristan est surtout heureux. Finis.

And in English:

This is Hamlet the pupil. Hamlet is a small boy, and has seven years [is seven years old]. He has blond hair and green eyes, and he loves to go to school. Indeed, he resembles a typical boy, but he is not like everyone else. For example, “Hamlet” is not he real first name; he prefers to be called “the little prince”, but to his classmates and his teacher, he is called “prince Hamlet” or “Hamlet”. Why? I do not know! Perhaps he resembles the Danish prince, but he is not a Dane! On the contrary, nobody knows his origins. Yes, Hamlet is not typical!

Hamlet has a teacher. He is called Mr. Saddon ["Triste" is French for "sad"]. Mr. Saddon is a big man, and he is about fifty years old. He has not much hair, and his hair is grey. He is very rich, but very stingy also. His students detest Mr. Saddon, for he is very serious and always unhappy. He does not have a wife, and has very few friends. He does not love children, especially his students! Hamlet, on the other hand, has many friends, for his is very friendly and nice, and he is never selfish.

One day, Mr. Saddon poses a question to Hamlet:

“Hamlet, you are always happy. Why?”

“Hmm, I do not know, Mr. Saddon. Well… my father is very happy, my mother is very happy, and my brothers and sisters are very happy too…”

“Who are the members of your family?”

“Um… my father is the sun, my mother is the moon, and my brothers and sisters are…”

“The stars?”

“Yes, teacher!”

“Impossible! You are in the clouds! Do you have a father and a mother? Respond like everyone else!”

“Yes, teacher. My father is the sun, my mother…”

“Enough. You do not have a father or mother, do you?”

“But yes, teacher! I have a father and a mother. My father is the sun…”

“Enough, enough! I understand. You are very optimistic… I do not have a family too, like you, but you are not sad. I, on the other hand, am not happy.”

“But no, Mr. Saddon! You have a father and children!”

“What?”

“The son is the father of the man, right?

“Er… that’s true…”

“And we, your students, are your children! If you love us, we love you also!”

“That’s true, that’s true… Hamlet, you are little, but you are very smart!”

Mr. Saddon listens to Hamlet, and adores his students. He is very generous and nice also. Hamlet and his classmates are very happy, and adore their teacher. And Mr. Saddon is especially happy. The end.

Clearly, there are many issues and difficulties with this narrative, apart from the limited vocabulary and sentence structures. Readers of French will find this much more awkward than readers of English, as there’s much more room for mistakes in French: gender, verb conjugation, formality, just to name a few. Also, the lack of a past tense (we haven’t been taught that yet) is très enneyeux [very annoying]. Writing this took up an inordinate amount of time… so even if I don’t get a good grade on this, I hope that at least the grader enjoyed it.

At the brink of new endeavour, I stand.
Across the sea, beyond, lie distant lands:
They tempt with virgin landscapes, high adventure, great romance;
But will I return rewarded, or with empty hands,

and spirit spent?

1. You hear a deeeep low singing voice.
   • 0.001% chance of it being a girl. I don’t want to consider the alternative.
2. You don’t see the top of a short-haired head over the cubicle wall
   • 20%. It may just be a short guy.
3. You smell a strong, sweet scent of shampoo
   • 40%. Some guys want to smell nice, too.
4. You DO see the top of a long-haired head over the cubicle wall
   • 60%. Chance of tall girl > chance of long-haired boy.
5. You see a girly towel draped over the cubicle wall
   • 80%. Don’t ask me to define “girly”. You’ll know it when you see one.
6. You come into the toilet and find the shower cubicle occupied; you do your business, go back to dorm to take your shower equipment, take a shower, go back to take your toothbrush etc., brush your teeth, floss, shave, and are about to leave the toilet when you realize that the cubicle is still occupied by the same person.
   • 99.999% !!!

(Disclaimer: Percentages have not been empirically tested.)

More accurately, unintentional incidents often lead to one meeting new people. It takes two data points to establish a trend, and a third to confirm it (sorta), and it so happens that the events of today offer me three such data points.

1) So I was supposed to meet Johanna at the Performing Arts Center in Collegetown, where a shuttle from Bethel Grove Church was supposed to pick us up. Half an hour after the bus was due, the bus still hadn’t arrived, but there was this other Asian student waiting near us, and he had a Bible with him. So we approached him and asked if he was waiting for the Bethel Grove shuttle as well. It turns out the church shuttles are all (in his words) “rather iffy”, and more likely than not, the bus wasn’t gonna come, but he was waiting for the public bus to go to his church in Ithaca Commons, and would we like to come along? And so we ended up joining Michael (from Cornell) at the Vineyard Church of Ithaca, where we met two more Asian American students, Dave and Chelsea (also from Cornell), along with a hundred-strong (or maybe eighty) congregation of families, students and old folks. After the service (they have an opening song, then refreshments DURING service, followed by the sermon and the rest of the worship!), Dave chauffeured the three Cornellians plus one Ithaca College student back to our respective locations, and even dropped me right outside the hall I was supposed to be at. Nice people. I’ll definitely visit them again. Interestingly, their church is in such an obscure location of Ithaca Commons that if not for the meeting with Michael at the bus-stop, there’d be absolutely NO CHANCE of us ending up there.

2) Later in the day, I went to collect some registration documents from the Arts & Sciences office, but was told that they didn’t have my documents. It turns out that the deferment process was a little bit messy, and that although Cornell knew I was coming this Fall, the Arts & Sciences people were expecting me last Fall, and in light of my absence last year, weren’t expecting me anymore! But it’s not as serious as it sounds. It seems like the only repercussion of this technical (or administrative) fault is that I don’t have a printed copy of my courses (I have an online one, though), and I don’t have a faculty advisor! So I was sent to one of the Deans in A&S, and guess what? he assigned himself as my faculty advisor! So instead of having to wait for tomorrow to get a meeting with my faculty advisor like the rest of the students are doing, I got to meet my advisor today, and my Dean of Studies as well! And the funny thing is, none of the others who deferred matriculation because of NS had this problem, which turned out to be a privilege.

3) At the end of the long day, I headed back to Donlon with BoonJin (from Malaysia). We just came from two a capella performances (really good! but that’s another stories), so we were talking about music, and the conversation eventually led us to the grand piano on the first floor of Donlon. And when I’m with new people at a piano, I can’t resist teaching them the “knuckle duet” (more accurately, I play it first, and people invariably ask to be taught it). Halfway through, some other guy from Donlon came along and started watching. And from watching, it became learning (he’d never played on the piano before!), and while HE was learning, another guy came along, and I think the chain would have continued if not for the fact that it was time for another performace (poetry followed by acrobatics). So the four of us watched the performance together, and I’m pretty sure that’s not the last I’ll see of them.

So yeah. So much stuff’s been going on over the weekend that I haven’t blogged about, but there’ll be photos soon (I hope). Also, this’ll be the end of my first week here! And I’m pretty glad that I could end the eventful week with meeting all those people (meeting people during orientation doesn’t count, cos those meetings are sorta forced/planned/orchestrated). Looking forward to more of such in the future.