Thursday, June 30, 2011

June 30th

The alternate title for this post is "No, please don't go!", referring to June being over. 
Attempting to blog every day in June was a whim. It came to me as I was writing a post early in the month and I realized that I had done one every day so far which was like, two or three. I wondered if I could keep it up; I did! I loved it, too. There was one day where I posted the next morning, but I'm letting it slide. I have really enjoyed getting out some thoughts each day, even though it's pretty mundane stuff and my writing has never been great- I can't organize my thoughts super well. I kind of feel as though some people have this image of a blueprint of whatever they write; I don't have that. Oh well. It is my blog, after all.
I'm going to aim for July now. I think I might have mentioned that some lurking fear of commitment (& a job that starts in August) is keeping me from attempting a true 365 (posting once a day for a year), but month-by-month I can warm up to. Honestly, the biggest challenge I see in the next month, 11 months even, if I'm really toying with the idea of a 365, is that I'm leaving the country for a week. There will be an internet cafe situation, but those one or two random days of no access might happen; I can just post twice the next day, right?
Anyway, July, here we come. I'd like to ring in each new month with a quote. June had her month in the sun (though we saw quite a bit of rain here!) and every other month deserves that too I'm realizing. Tomorrow I can talk about why I like this month and today I give you July's quote/poem/something to ponder/whatever I can find for each month. This is something I had never fully read until now and I think it's a beautiful and very strong piece of work. Do you know where this is found in our country?

The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Emma Lazarus, 1883

xoxo, natty ♥


Post a Comment