Klostermeyer and John Donne

Dear Dr. Klostermeyer,
This post was partially inspired by our talk today. I mean, I didn't run home trying to think of something to blog about just because you pointed out that I hadn't really written in a while...I just realized that my being busy hasn't just kept me from blogging, it's kept me from reflecting and thinking in the way that I ought. Also, when you pointed out that I'd never written about SBU faculty I thought it was time for me to give a shout out. So here's my shout out. And what follows is my actual post:

So anyways, things have been crazy lately. I've been doing a lot of running around/trying to memorize court cases/trying to figure out what the heck Milton meant in his super confusing poetry/making up for lost sleep by spending way more time in my bed than should be legally allowed/downing caffeine like nobody's business.

I haven't really slowed down for a while. And to be honest, even when I have slowed down these past few weeks I've ended up falling asleep before I could get any productive thoughts in...or to be even more honest, I've kept myself from thinking productive thoughts, because they're difficult. They're messy. They usually make me uncomfortable. They usually spur me toward making choices that don't seem very fun (but that I ultimately know are right).

So I think GOD played a joke on me tonight. I came back to my room and drank a mocha and then fell asleep. At eight. On a Friday night. I forgot about the caffeine content a mocha has. So I woke up exactly thirty minutes after falling asleep.

And of course I woke up in a weird state of mind because I'd only slept for a short time. The kind of state of mind where you read seventeenth century poetry and wind up crying all over the book. Which was embarrassing, but okay I guess...we all need some cartharsis.

I'm taking a class about 17th and 18th Century Lit. this semester. For the most part it's all over my head, but we read this poem the other day and it really got to me:

Holy Sonnet 14
By John Donne
Batter my heart, three-person'd God; for you
As yet but knock; breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

I feel like this poem speaks for itself, so I won't belittle you by dumping my thoughts on it on you. So now hopefully I can work off this caffeine buzz and get some sleep.