Poems, Essays About

Yay! At least I want to say, "yay." I just finished outlining my paper and it's looking friggin' sweeeeet. Everything somehow came together, and I found out that they actually are very closely related in theme, and I hadn't originally thought this. I'm linking In Cities, Be Alert and Encounter, both by Annie Finch. I'm excited about how everything came together and my three paragraphs will work fine. So I have the hard part out of the way. It's easy to B.S. words together once you have the idea of what to talk about. I just watched Office Space with Nick and Mark about an hour ago, as a means of putting off work I guess. No, its viewing was more along the lines of it being more interesting than work, thus it distracted me. Prioritizing gone wrong? Perhaps. Anyways, here's a poem I wrote for/during English following the iambic pentameter (stress is on the second syllable) quattrain (four lines) form, as instructed:

Once upon a time
I had an English class.
She asked me to rhyme;
I said, "kiss my ass."

No, no. That wasn't it. Let me try again:

To know or not to know?
I sit in class and think-
to moil and toil to show
a teacher how I think?

Ideas don't come to mind;
I rarely get my sleep.
Yet, still I try to find
A word that rhymes with "neat."

Someday I'll find a way
to get this project done;
until I do I'll stay
and try to have some fun.

Hooray for this poém
'cause clearly it's the best!
But, few things rhyme with poem,
what the fuckin' heck!

It moves from concern over lack of topics to write about, and the authors excuses over why he can't think of them, to celebration/realization over succeeding in writing something valuable, to frustration at the very end because the author can't rhyme everything the way he wants it to. He finds at the end that it isn't as good as he thought it was. I call it, "pure genius." It gets extra wittiness points for being a poem written in response to my lack of ideas to write a poem about.
I also wrote an in depth response to a psychology question on blackboard for extra credit and I'm happy with my lengthy response and citation of books and tv shows to back up my case. I felt intelligent. I totally owned the question, which was: If your brain was somehow transplanted into another body, which would you consider to be your self - the new body with your old brain or your old body with a new brain? What would it be like if the two of you met? If anyone actually is curious what I wrote, get a life. Or I could tell you. Or I could copy and paste it. But, I doubt anyone cares enough for me to do that. So, in response to what my readers want, I'm following their best interest by leaving it out. I feel good again. Earlier today, I felt like shit, and dreaded both writing this paper and the prospect of me being up all night without any idea of what to write about. I have a busy schedule, so I must be off. To homework, I say!