Whoa, we were off the wall, we were mirrors of eachother, pasisng by...

Before Facebook Fanpages (Or things you "like"...ugh, what is that?) usurped my profile information, I had "rescuing earthworms from the sidewalk" as one of my interests (Okay, I hadn't "liked" helping worms on the sidewalk yet, but I just did). In the Spring months, I've mentally added caterpillars to that list. I've just seen so many of them struggling to get back to the grass (I just helped an injured one, but probably just made things worse when he fell a few feet off the leaf back to the sidewalk...actually, maybe he wasn't even hurt, just staying still to avoid being eaten, and maybe i was the one that hurt him...I remember multiple times in my life where I've begged someone not to kill a bug that's been in the house, and then managed to decapitate it in the process of getting it in a cup and and slipping a sheet of paper underneath. At least my intentions were good?)

Anyways, I guess I feel an obligation to any cute, innocent little animal, insects included, to help them, especially since I've seen so many squished caterpillars, with their light green innards spilling out of their heads (Sorry for that image). I suppose I'm trying to use my privilege as a human to do good. I mean, why am I here as a person when another living being is a little spiky wormy thing that's going to get stepped on or biked over or eaten by a bird? Why are that wormy thing's siblings going to get the chance to be beautiful butterflies who live free and exiting (albeit short) lives? I'm guessing it isn't Karma, at least not in their current lives, since I don't really think caterpillars have the capacity to do bad (they might sting someone with those poison spiky thingers or eat too much of a tree so another caterpillar can't get to it, but those are mere survival techniques, not exerting power for the sake of exerting power). Maybe the caterpillars that never grow up to be butterflies (or...moths) are ones that did something bad in a previous life as a human or dolphin or something, but how do you explain how one gets to be a butterfly? It's not a bad life, but not an exceptionally good one, either. Maybe that's why there are so many insects in the world; because most people are not exceptionally good or evil, so they get to live secure, but not necessarily fulfilling next lives (I mean, you'd grow up without a family, make babies, and then die without getting to see them grow).

(I don't even know I believe in reincarnation; I don't know why I wrote all of that)

(This is what happens when I walk to and from class after losing my iPod...I think of weird, stream-of-conscious stuff)

(You're probably all like, "This entry would have been much easier to account for 10 days ago than it is today, under certain assumptions". [Though you probably don't really think/talk like that, even if I do] But I swear that isn't the case, and I have yet to reach for a cookie)

(Remember a few entries ago when I expressed concern for being driven totally up a wall? I think it's happening...)

It's the end of all strain, It's the joy in your heart

I really didn't want to clog my blog up with song lyrics, but in this case I think they'd be beneficial, so see below. I woke up this morning and looked outside and something about the sky just screamed out "March"...I really don't think any other month has such a specific aesthetic to it. Overcast and cold...but the birds are singing and there's just something that seems to tell you that all the yuckiness won't last long. And immediately I thought "the promise of spring" and realized I was quoting that Antonio Carlos Jobim song "The Waters of March/Águas de Março". I think Art Garfunkel did one of the more popular English versions of the song, and I think the Basia version is the first one I heard, but I like this one, partly because David Byrne and Marisa Monte are awesome, but mostly because it has both English and Portuguese lyrics. Wikipedia points out that instead of being translations of eachother, the Portuguese one is from a Southern Hemisphere perspective, the start of the Brazillian fall, while the English one is the start of Spring in the north. Totally blew my mind. And one version just seems happier than the other in comparison, you know? I guess which one depends on which season you like better.

A stick, a stone, it's the end of the road
É um resto de toco, it's a little alone
It's a sliver of glass, it's life, it's the sun
It is night, it is death, it's a trap it's a gun

É peroba no campo, é um nó na madeira
Cangá, candeia, é Matita Pereira
É madeira de vento, tombo na ribanceira
É um mistério profundo, é um queria ou não queira

É um vento ventando, é o fim da ladeira
É a vida, é o vão, festa da cumeeira
É a chuva chovendo, é conversa ribeira
Das águas de março, é o fim da canseira

The foot, the ground, the flesh and the bone
Passarinho na mão, pedra de atiradeira
É uma ave no céu, é uma ave no chão
É o regato, é uma fonte, é um pedaço de pão

É o fundo do poço, é o fim do caminho
No rosto o desgosto, é um pouco sozinho
A spear, a spike, a point, a nail
A drip, a drop, the end of the tale

É um peixe, é um gesto, é uma prata brilhando
É a luz da manhã, é o tijolo chegando
A mile, o dia, a thrust, a bump
It's a girl, it's a rhyme, it's a cold, it's a cold, it's the mumps

É o projeto da casa, é o corpo na cama
É o carro enguiçado, é a lama, é a lama
A drift, ponte, flight, rã, resto, quail
The promise of spring

And the river bank talks (São as águas de março)
Of the waters of march, (Fechando o verão)
It's the promise of life (É promessa de vida,)
It's the joy in your heart (No meu coração)

A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road
É um resto de toco,
é um pouco sozinho

It's a sliver of glass,
It’s a life, it's the sun,
É a noite, é a morte,
é o laço, é o anzol

It’s the plan of the house,
It’s the body in bed,
It’s the car that got stuck,
It's the mud, it's the mud

É o projeto da casa,
é o corpo na cama
É o carro enguiçado,
é a lama, é a lama

São as águas de março fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida no meu coração

And the riverbanks talk
of the waters of March,
It's the end of all strain,
It's the joy in your heart.


I mean, I've been making a conscious effort to make sense of a lot of things in my life, which has made me feel a lot...more content, if not happier, lately, but I think the fact that we're out of the dead of winter (if February is the shortest month, why does it seem like the longest?) is helping a ton, too. Though I still don't understand why the fuck winter break is still in the winter, when I'll be returning to Pennsylvania and the snowpocalypse. I guess it makes it all the more special for those running off to Cancun. Part of me wishes I were, say, running off to Havana again...but I don't think I fully appreciated my time at home over winter break so I guess it's a good thing to return to the land of ice and snow (from the midnight sun where the hot springs blow? Somewhere like that seems like a much better setting for a snowpocalypse, no?)