i hate scholarship applications btw, my essays are even more fraudulent than my D for econs s. the poem 'conceit' by DH Lawrence is especially salient, and it really rang a bell when chern sent it to me. oh yeah, what's modern life but a swirl of spin anyway? chunlong is right in saying i have the wrong values and interests for this country and age: there is no viable scope for me to explore my passion, and thus i will have to make painful compromises to a world in which i find nothing interesting. ah well.
yesterday i was having an eustacia vye day: "The only way to lok queenly without realms or hearts to queen it over is to look as if you had lost them"
what other way is there of describing such days? 'ennui' doesnt quite cut it: its a feeling of intense desolation and hopelessness, an outlook upon vistas fo bleak from which there seems to be no reprieve.
Conceit
It is conceit that kills us
and makes us cowards instead of gods.
Under the great Command: Know thy self, and that thou art mortal!
we have become fatally self-conscious, fatally self-important, fatally entangled in the Laocoön coils of our conceit.
Now we have to admit we can't know ourselves, we can only know about ourselves.
And I am not interested to know about myself any more,
I only entangle myself in the knowing.
Now let me be myself,
now let me be myself, and flicker forth,
now let me be myself, in the being, one of the gods.
DH Lawrence
such a relevant poem, which just begs the question: how come i never noticed it in my anthology?
mellie contemplated 5:53 PM
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