This journal is mostly public because most of it contains poetry, quotations, pictures, jokes, videos, and news (medical and otherwise). If you like what you see, you are welcome to drop by, anytime. I update frequently.

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October 28th, 2009

med_cat: (H&W first class)
med_cat: (H&W first class)

Two Lovely Songs About Friendship

med_cat: (H&W first class)


Well, I've been browsing about YouTube and finding some songs or versions of songs I've not heard before! I particularly like the message in the two songs above :)

Edita Piekha is singing the second one; it's called "On The Large Planet" and lyrics translation is below:

Lyrics translation here: )
med_cat: (Watson bookworm)
med_cat: (Watson bookworm)

Writer's Block: Nature or nurture

med_cat: (Watson bookworm)
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An interesting question....  The jury is still out on that one and I'm sure it will be out for a long time, if not forever....

I would say both to both questions and also that we cannot determine which of the two has the greater influence, also to both questions.  However, nurture can control the nature to a large extent, in my opinion.

med_cat: (Fall trees lake)
med_cat: (Fall trees lake)

Under The Floor

med_cat: (Fall trees lake)
This seemed appropriate to the season :)

Enjoy,
Cat

UNDER THE FLOOR

Everybody knows how the waters come down at Lodore,
But what about voices coming up through the floor?
Oh yes, every time that into a task you set your teeth
Something starts talking in the room underneath,
And no matter how many authorities you quiz,
You can never find out who or what it is;
You know one thing about it and nothing more,
That it is just something that goes around making noises that come up through the floor.

Sometimes it sings the Indian Love Call and sometimes it sings Lead, Kindly Light, by Cardinal Newman,
But even then it doesn't sound human,
And sometimes it gobbles,
And the sound wibbles and wobbles,
And sometimes it snarls like a ghoul interrupted at its unholy feast,
And sometimes it just mutters like the blood going down the drain of a tub after a murderer has finished dismembering the deceased;

It cackles, it crackles, it drones, it buzzes, it chortles,
It utters words but in no tongue spoken by mortals,
Yes, its language is a mystery for evermore,
The language of whatever it is that makes the noise that comes up through the floor,
And you shiver and quiver and wonder,
What's under?

Is it banshees or goblins or leprechauns, or trolls or something?
Or pixies or vampires of lost souls or something?
What is it below?
Better not, better not know.
Don't let it upset you,
But also don't overlook the possibility that someday whatever it is that makes the noises that come up through the floor may come up through the floor and get you.

(Ogden Nash)