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HIEU MINH NGUYEN

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— James Baldwin, "Untitled"

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When I first read this, I thought it said "playful" instead of "painful" and that made me think for a second. I didn't think this person thought that people do it for fun per se, I thought they meant that it's funny, ridiculous, an inside joke with yourself about how foolish this person is for thinking they can best you in some contest of ontology. Obviously, this is not what OP is saying, and what they are describing is more painful, but it's an interesting way to think about this phenomenon.

there is something truly confining and painful about people thinking you're something that you're not. I mean in a fundamental way, like someone assuming that you're hetero when you're not, or that you're female when you're not, or that you are the sort of person who would want dainty jewelry as a gift when you're butch. it's like someone putting you in a jacked that's too tight in the torso but too loose in the arms. is there some obscure german word for this

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- E. M. Forster's New Year's resolutions, written 31 December 1904

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The Setup

I am now over halfway through The Secret History! Where else could this best be read than my lovely bedroom, complete with Woodwick candle and Jane Eyre blanket!

The song is Gnossienne no. 1, a song that has always intrigued me. I had definitely heard it before this, but I always associate it with the time I heard it in a Mermaid Museum (yes, you read that right) during senior week. The whole experience was deeply strange; it was a sideshow attraction, filled with cute and kitschy "proof" of mermaids, such as artifacts from various cultures depicting them or their "scales." We were the only ones in there. Plus, it was senior week, which makes everything more surreal, I think. I just read that the song was written without time signatures, in something the composer called "free time" (well, he probably didn't call it that since he was French. Who knows? Not me!) I guess that's why this song is so cool and unsettling.

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Fog defies modern entrapment

Makes us go out into the not-quite-cold

To add a film of pureness on our plastic clothes

And feel the ecstasy of blindness

I like that the New Year comes at one of the bleakest times of year. Perfect weather for reflection, which is all that New Years is really for.

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I also love how snow brings out the wonder and kindness in everyone. Hoping for some snow soon on the East Coast! It will be especially cool to see my first snow on campus! Magic!

Snow is quite unusual in London. You can feel the novelty of it, the way it transforms the city – not just the landscape, blanketed in a cloying whiteness which dusts eaves, softens edges and powders windowsills, but also the people, who go with a temporary estrangement from the monotonous grey. Everyone walks more slowly, and strangers smile at me as they pass, our eyes meet and crinkle knowing the shared secret inner joy of this interruption to our day to day. Or maybe they think I look funny in my huge coat, hat and gloves

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— "Stacks of Wheat (End of Summer)" by Claude Monet, "Monet’s Haystacks" by Robert Bly

buy me a coffee

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I want to add that one of the reasons I clicked on this video in the first place is that it reminded me of this surreal kid's movie called “Sillyville.” We watched it in elementary-school music class; the teacher, an older guy who really did love music, always encouraged us to not feel too old for this movie. "Even the fifth graders love Sillyville, give it a chance!" It came into my mind about a week ago, when I remembered how odd it was. The silly costumes and caffeinated acting are standard fair for a direct-to-video children's movie, but what I always remembered about it was that they changed the lyrics to popular public domain songs, I surmised to appeal more to children. I assumed that these changes were done by Wee Sing, but John Green's essay informed me that, at least in the case of this song, the different version already existed, and it was at least somewhat about World War I nihilism. I remember hearing the Sillyville version and thinking, "wow, they really dumbed this down, huh?" Not that I really understood the meaning of Auld Lang Syne at age 9, but I at least thought it had more meaning than "We're here because we're here." This segment kind of illustrates Green's second interpretation of these words, as a celebration of absurdity. Yes, I am going to unironically say that Wee Sing in Sillyville did something interesting with Auld Lang Syne. Have a happy New Year everyone, including the newly released from Tumblr exile John Green.

Apparently this has been around for a few years, but this is my first time seeing it. John Green is a captivating speaker and the scenery perfectly compliments this beautiful essay.

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for old times sake is actually such a heartbreaking and beautiful sentiment. let’s do it for the love that used to be here!! it is reason enough!!

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hamlet / bill and ted’s excellent adventure

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1. A dog is full of joy

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Should I be posting something more serious on here? Yes, but this was too good not to reblog.

- diary of a wimpy kid: rich and famous - u/judgeggrogs - you are jeff - richard siken

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Apparently this has been around for a few years, but this is my first time seeing it. John Green is a captivating speaker and the scenery perfectly compliments this beautiful essay.

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I love e. e. cummings. There is something about his verse that feels translated somehow, like he has studied and written so much that he has alienated himself from it. A sense of fun permeates his poetry, with the spaces and incorrect punctuation, but it is obvious that it is sophisticated. Like a professor wearing sweatpants. You will definitely see more of cummings on my blog, especially once I get back to my dorm and crack open my modern poetry collection I left there. Merry Christmas!

little tree little silent Christmas tree you are so little you are more like a flower who found you in the green forest and were you very sorry to come away? see          i will comfort you because you smell so sweetly i will kiss your cool bark and hug you safe and tight just as your mother would, only don’t be afraid look          the spangles that sleep all the year in a dark box dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine, the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads, put up your little arms and i’ll give them all to you to hold. every finger shall have its ring and there won’t be a single place dark or unhappy then when you’re quite dressed you’ll stand in the window for everyone to see and how they’ll stare! oh but you’ll be very proud and my little sister and i will take hands and looking up at our beautiful tree we’ll dance and sing “Noel Noel”

e. e. cummings, [little tree]

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The Real Prayers Are Not the Words, But the Attention that Comes First by Mary Oliver

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