"I Am Only Coming Through in Waves..."

Breaking news on the home front!

Floodwaters high; the basement is under water, and the lower downstairs bathroom is a puddle, due to a hole in the window; Waen managed to save the side door by opening the drain. It's been torrential. We took Maggie out in it and the three of us ran around in puddles and got soakingly wet, which makes Waen and I look wet and Maggie look like a drowned rat. A big drowned rat.

Floodwarnings are in effect for Perry County, and there was a tornado watch earlier. I expect it's a sign of the Apocalypse.

Apart from the constant rainfall, things are fairly as usual. For some reason I agreed to accompany Mum to her seven-thirty doctor's appointment this morning, so I think I'll be going to bed around nine or ten, because I feel as though I may spontaneously collapse anything.

Have been manic-depressive all day, going from ^__________________^ to seriously contemplating suicide to wibbly and sentimental and hugging people to incredibly irritable and yelling to sarcasm and cynicism for every event to wired and excited about nothing. It's completely surreal. Have also been stress-eating liek whoa.

I am practising Icelandic Christmas carols so that I'll maybe have some memorised by Christmas. I intend to voicepost around that time when I have indeed learned them. I cannot voicepost right now; either the telephone won't dial at all, or the number rings one and it tells me it doesn't exist. I've tried calling in Reading, PA, Jackson, MI, Atlanta, GA, and Philadelphia, with the same results everywhere. I wonder if the Texas number would work. Oooh.

We're reading Benjamin Franklin's autobiography for class, about an hour (or thirty pages) per day. It's boring. I can't help it. I'm also trying to read Anthony and Cleopatra and Coriolanus, but the text is too small and makes me sleepy and I have NO ATTENTION SPAN WHATSOEVER. :D

Zara, take care. ♥

"And Next You're Dazzled by the Beauty of it All..."

Russian Poetry Spam! :D

The Underwater Plants

The underwater plants spread their pale leaves
Across the bottom of the ocean's tomb.
They stretch, and as they do, they grow like ghosts
In the deep silence of that dark and gloom.

Such quiet solitude depresses them:
They like the world where unknown heights still loom.
They want excitement, the sun's rays and love.
They dream of aromatic flowers in bloom.

No road to that bright, busy land's been found.
The cold water is silent deep at sea.
The sharks go swimming by occasionally.

Not a glimpse, nor greeting, not a sound...
And from above -- sea ripples send down slips
Of dead men's bodies... and fragments of ships.

--Constantine Dmitrievich Balmont

( More poems--! by Balmont and others. )

^^ This is what I have been reading before I go to sleep.