The Condemned House

Two houses down on my street, there is a pretty run-down house. The previous inhabitants had been evicted a few weeks ago, and had continued living there even after there was no electricity or running water. The house itself was condemned. Homeless people found shelter there, and there was drug paraphernalia littered on the ground. Or so I heard.

The door wasn't locked this Saturday, and I decided to look inside. What used to be someone's home was trashed. Food, trash, papers, photographs, pillows, toys, kitchen stuff, a computer- all scattered about on the carpet. I looked in the garage and found an even bigger mess.

It surprised me to find- however- so many books around the house. Old books. Books on psychology, statistics, calculus, theology, English, fiction, non-fiction. Why would a condemned drug-house hold so many cardboard boxes and shelves full of books?

Later that day, my father answered this question. The woman who had been evicted had lived there as a child. Her father was a professor of psychology.

Seeing as these books were collecting dust, I took a good number of them home with me. The ones that caught my eye. Philosophy books, old novels. Some of the books I found are OLD. I found "Book of Fables", a book printed in 1883. I found a leather-bound "Complete Works of Shakespeare" from 1925.

Call me a book worm. I'm going back today to find more.

It's not everyday you find treasure in a drug-house.

Sharing a Poem

Last night I was up past midnight. I had been writing for a while. I write very often- most of it is poetry. I keep a journal that I write in daily. At one point, I was reading something- a sonnet- that I'd written early last month. Three times last night, I read it closely:

So dear, sweet Muse, my ear to hear you sing

Your music true. Breathing poetic lines;

No answer yet to me, nor any signs

How song and poem are two, and not one thing.

Listen: Keen ear and eye to either bring

The grace of words a feeble soul aligns;

His muse and pen tight tangled as in vines-

But lo. Both give that joy and bitter sting!

My song: Guitar and these, my simple thoughts

A voice too young to yet echo the breeze.

The sound that makes of life a poem is not.

A poem, a bed time tale, spoke soft, with ease.

One page of words I plan, fore’er be taught.

And ever worthy of Anthologies.

I like it. You can probably tell that I enjoy poetry. A lot more than most other people. It's a true Petrarchan sonnet. It follows all of the rules.

Writing is my passion. It is an outlet, a way of expression, and also practice. You get better the more you write. I've written hundreds of pages of poetry, and there are those few- like this sonnet- that stick out to me and make me proud. Inspiration is everywhere, but it's a pretty hard to capture. It's even harder to write it down on paper, and make it sound nice and have an emotional appeal.

This isn't my most passionate piece, nor is it my favorite. But if there's one poem I've written that best captures the essence of who I am as a person, it is this sonnet.

Reflection Uno

Just as they did at the dawn of this school year, the colorful bugs of Grid World came and went at the start of this spring semester. Their visit was just as short, and they ran just as fast as they did the last time I met them, as I slid the light blue bottom bar to the far right. The circle bug and the spiral bug were friendly, but I never did get the z bug to run-or, rather stop correctly. And unfortunately now that we've returned to JCreator, I'm once again lagging behind. I'm lost in my own grid world, bound within and running the perimeter of my ten by ten grid.

Analogies and metaphors are great. How else would one give image to the elusive concepts of computer sciences?

I am not saying that I'm limited by my gird. I have the ability and potential to expand my Grid World into an unbound grid. However, my blue speed bar may be a little left of that of other bugs- if you know what I mean.

It may take me a while to keep up with the concepts of computer science. I admit that I fall behind and I ask many many questions. But I haven't given up yet. One by one, I complete the worksheets and begin to become accustomed to the material. Blog posts may not be my top priority, but I do see the benefit of taking time to honestly reflect and communicate my progress and struggles.