New Beginnings (No, I'm not talking about Young Womens)

I have been inspired. After my pathetic attempt at keeping a blog while in Jerusalem, I have now been re-converted to the world of blogging. I sit here at my computer and wonder what might make for a good first entry, because, of course, the first entry must be excellent, or who would bother to read further? Perhaps a promise of things on the horizon? A favorite poem? An insightful thought I learned today? Alright, you convinced me. All three.

Things rolling around in my brain I intend to expound upon:
-My top 10 all-time favorite literary works and why
-My thoughts about the current quality of films being released ( fear not dear friends, this is not a review of each movie, but my thoughts on the entertainment field in general)
-Jerusalem Study Abroad Vs. BYU - the social scene leaves something to be desired.
-GREAT motivational talks I have heard recently and pertaining thoughts.
-Billy Collins, I'm converted, need I say more?
-The woe's of dating (this one could get interesting...)

Alright, I don't want to give away ALL of the good stuff.

I recently attended a poetry reading by Billy Collins (more about him another day) and LOVED this poem he wrote. Jane and I both found it extremely funny

The Lanyard

Billy Collins

The other day I was ricocheting slowly off the blue walls of this room, moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano, from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor, when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother, but the rueful admission that when she took the two-tone lanyard from my hand, I was as sure as a boy could be that this useless, worthless thing I wove out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

Insightful thought of the day: If you want to be with someone wonderful forever, you need to live to be worthy of that someone. There is no way to measure this. It is a continual progression. "Don't give up, never give up"

And lastly, the sad news of the day. It is now quite certain, I have indeed LOST the second volume of Chicago's Greatest Hits. The real tragedy is that all the best songs were on that second CD. Anyone have a copy?