Melancholy

I like melancholy things. 

Did someone say melon collie?

Yeah, no. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking black and white photos, staring longingly off into the distance, silhouettes, and poetry. I'm talking "a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause." 

Meredith being melancholy doesn't really mean Meredith is sad. Because I really like the pensive part of melancholy. And the "no obvious cause" part is pretty nice too. Because being sad with an obvious cause is really not fun.

People who are unfortunate enough to be familiar with me know that generally I'm a pretty happy person. I've chilled out a lot over the last year or so, but I'm definitely not a big fan of being bummed out. But sometimes I just like to sit in my room, play music, and be melancholy. Melancholy is a dependable sort of emotion. Happiness can be fleeting, obnoxious, and tiring. Anger is exhausting and unpleasant for all parties affected by it. 

But melancholy just stays with you, a sort of bittersweet comfort. It's nice to be melancholy sometimes because you get to just sit quietly and think about things. It's sort of like that feeling right before you hug someone.

I like to listen to music when I'm melancholy, like this...

Also frequently appearing on my "Melon Collie" playlist are Christina Perri ("Jar of Hearts" will always do it for me), Passenger ("Let Her Go"), Ed Sheeran ("This"), or my personal favorite (although it only works for me if I play it myself) - Chopin.

Or sometimes I just peruse photos, quotes, or poetry that bring out my melancholy tendencies.
Here are a few.

And after just a few minutes of pondering all the big things in my life like college and jobs and careers, I forget about little-big things like economics projects and algebra tests. And somehow, the bigger things seem easier to think about than those little things, because they're in the future, and at least while I'm being melancholy, I don't have to face any of my troubles.
There's a sort of refuge in sadness, you see. Sadly, I don't think that prose is entirely appropriate to really describe something so melancholy as melancholy (especially my prose). Consequently, I must turn you loose to learn about it for yourselves from the poetic masters.
Here's a tiny gem to get you started.

"And so, being young and dipt in folly

I fell in love with melancholy."

-Edgar Allen Poe

Valentine's Day Verse

Ah, spring - when ten year old girls' fancy turns to thoughts of love. Today is Valentine's Day, a day to celebrate all the people we love. And I'm happy because I have a wonderful Mr. Darcy quote for this post.

"I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love."

My little sister is an aspiring poet. Or at least, she wrote a few poems yesterday. And since "roses are red" is kind of an iconic cheesy love poem (albeit a super lame one), I thought it was entirely appropriate that it was, evidently, her inspiration.

And since it's Valentine's Day, I figured I would share her beautiful poetry with you. It is truly amazing and achieves a literary depth that is absolutely unprecedented.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.

Flowers are nice

And so are you.

That one was relatively safe. Although I must say, being told that I'm "nice" wouldn't be quite as heart-fluttering as the next one...

Roses are red,

Violets are red,

Trees are red -

Your garden's on fire.

That would definitely get my heart beating a little faster.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.

Your boyfriend's red

And you are blue.

He is blushing,

You're holding your breath.

He hands you a ring!

Now you are pink. :)

Not gonna lie, I had to read that one a few times before I understood it. Fortunately, the author was not difficult to contact and was quite helpful. Apparently in line 4, "And you are blue," you are blue because you're holding your breath. 

You must have been holding your breath a very long time waiting for that ring.

Also, I thought the smiley face was an interesting literary device.

And finally, my personal favorite.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.

I'm holding a stapler,

You're holding your finger.

If you guys are struggling to figure out what to say to your valentine today (although based off of what I've seen on various social media sites so far, pretty much nobody has one), I would recommend one of these beautiful verses. They're sure to win the heart of any dashing gentleman or comely lady. Happy Valentine's Day!

Another morning and I wake with thirst

for the goodness I do not have. I walk
out to the pond and all the way God has given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,
I was never a quick scholar but sulked
and hunched over my books past the hour
and the bell; grant me, in your mercy,
a little more time. Love for the earth
and love for you are having such a long
conversation in my heart. Who knows what
will finally happen or where I will be sent,
yet already I have given a great many things
away, expecting to be told to pack nothing,
except the prayers which, with this thirst,
I am slowly learning.

                 - Thirst, Mary Oliver

Is it curling the hair

Or painting the face?

Pinning on bows,

Pink ribbons, and lace?

Flounces and frills,

Bracelets and rings?

Polishing nails?

Is it all of these things?

No, you can't pin it on

Like a bow in the hair.

You can't put it on

Like the garment you wear.

It's deeper than ornaments

Gracing the skin.

For true femininity

Comes from within!

It glows from a heart

That is gentle and kind,

A soul that is chaste,

An honest, pure mind.

Without inner goodness

How futile the bows,

For "pinning on petals"

Can ne'er make a rose!

-True Femininity, by Emily Hunter

I wrote a haiku

Nothing good to say.
But I said it anyway.
So I guess I win.

Gray and White

I stare into infinite White, wondering how I will ever win the battle over nothingness.

White stares back, daring me to mar its purity.

Holding my breath, I direct my pencil towards White.

Delicate whispers of Gray on White.

I breathe easier and continue fighting Gray's battle.

Further and further, darker and darker Gray grows.

Checking each line, aiming for perfection.

Darker Gray creeps up on White.

I am grinning now as the battle is being won.

But then a traitorous line gives White a chance.

White floods to all corners, obliterating almost all Gray.

Aided by my own eraser, White is once again victorious.

Taunted by White, let down by Gray, I am tempted to throw down my pencil.

But then I see a brave little Gray, hiding away from White, and I know I must not abandon it.

The little Gray grows darker on White.

I move my pencil quickly and skillfully, carefully penciling in each detail.

White is retreating surely and briskly.

And then just as almost all is gone, I stop, and breathe, "Perfect."

Remaining are both Gray and White.

Wondering White knows not why it has been allowed to remain.

Victorious Gray groans at my mercy.

Looking at my masterpiece, I smile, for I know this:

Gray is nothing without contrasting White. 

Trust in God and Do the Right

Courage, brother! do not stumble,

Though thy path is dark as night;

There's a star to guide the humble--

Trust in God and do the right

. Let the road be long and dreary,

And its ending out of sight;

Foot it bravely--strong or weary,

Trust in God and do the right.

Perish "policy" and cunning,

Perish all that fears the light;

Whether losing, whether winning,

Trust in God and do the right.

Trust no party, trust no faction,

Trust no leaders in the fight;

But in every word and action

Trust in God and do the right.

Trust no forms of guilty passion,

Fiends can look like angels bright;

Trust no custom, school, or fashion,

Trust in God and do the right.

Some will hate thee, some will love thee,

Some will flatter, some will slight;

Turn from man, and look above thee,

Trust in God and do the right.

Simple rule and safest guiding,

Inward peace and inward light;

Star upon our path abiding,

TRUST IN GOD AND DO THE RIGHT.

Poem "Trust in God and Do the Right" By Norman McLeod

What better on Wednesday than Walt Whitman?

When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer

-Walt Whitman-

When I heard the learn'd astronomer,

When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,

When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,

When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,

How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,

Till rising and gliding out I wander'd off by myself,

In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,

Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.