Long Weekend! What Better Excuse for PROCRASTINATION?

NOTE: If you want to read poetry, scroll down a lot. Most of this stuff is boring crap about my life, and I don't mean teary-eyed romantic tales, I mean seriously boring crap like what I ate and my feelings on Algebra 2.
So, tomorrow's MLK Day. Thank you, Martin Luther King. You will forever be remembered in young schoolchildren's hearts as the guy who let us have a three-day weekend. (not, you know, all that stuff about bringing equality to the world or whatever).
Typically, nerd that I am, I'm done with all my homework already. It was just stuff about imaginary numbers, anyway. (When I first heard about those things I was so excited, I thought "finally, math will be interesting; a journey into imagination" but math never fails to exceed my expectations for boredom.)

Epic tale of the weekend (epic in its original meaning, not, y'know "dude, epic bro" or whatever it is today): I woke up super late yesterday, ate cookies, procrastinated a LOT, bid my sister goodbye when she went to her thingy (I don't know what it's called. A sleepover thingy run by this Jewish organization), decided to read Pride and Prejudice because why not, slept a lot, threw up and then felt better five seconds later, did a bunch of stuff about boring old imaginary numbers, worked at zee library, ate dried cherries which I love, went on Figment, came here.

Yeah, I know you don't care about my day, nonexistent readers, but also you are imaginary just like those boring numbers. So who cares what you think? YOU SUCK ha ha ha, I really have lots of better things to do like editing, but here I am on my blog.

Sooo... you expect to read some poetry, eh? Let me pull out my poetry archive that I spent so much time making! God, it is amazing what you can get done when you're trying to weasel your way out of editing. That poetry archive will be so useful.
Hey, I know! I'll post 'Rain' and 'Sky'. Two dear little poems that I wrote last year about, guess, just guess. Rain and the sky. Crazy, I know.

Anyway, enjoy, i(sq root) readers. (If you don't get that, it's probably because I couldn't find a square root symbol. Or you don't know about math. Either way.)

Rain

And it rained.

Against the grey sky

And the impossibly scorched landscape

Longing, for ever too long

To be quenched of its thirst

A drizzle at first

Though it could not be seen

The earth reached for the sky

Which had opened again at last

For the long-awaited day

Had finally arrived.

Oh, never had rain been this way

And the ground broke through with flower

And perhaps the flower 

Was not of the same variety as the

Rose, or the daisy

But rain makes the most beautiful flower

From the stem

For the beauty

Is in the rain

The rain, which never knew

Of the flower arising from the earth

Until that day

When it ran from the sky once more.

Sky

The sky in spring

Is light, fluffy blue

Freeing periwinkle

The sky in summer

Is first a stifling white

Then the most beautiful

Impossible

Indigo-

Cerulean

Blue like the blue sky a child always sees

The blue that tells the truth.

The sky in autumn

Is azure

Besides, who looks past the leaves?

But past them

Is sharpness

Brightness

Beauty

Strength.

When the leaves fall.

A single leaf detaches from a bare, black branch

And floats, serenely, to earth

The sky is ice-blue then

Streaked with white cloud

There is peace in the wind

And when the snow comes,

There is gentle, quiet, beautiful blue.

Washing over me, flying through me

The light illuminates me

The cold awakens me.

Maybe one day

If the skies all come together

I’ll see your eyes

When I see the sky.

See? Told you about the eyes.

Anywho... I'm going to rant a LOT more probably, so feel free to just scroll to the bottom. Or not. The poems are over now.

....But I hate, like, Valentine's Day romance. If I was ever in a relationship with somebody I would tell them that if they get me flowers on Valentine's Day I will murder them, not because I don't like flowers but because WHAT YOU THINK YOU CAN GET OUT OF GIVING ME CHOCOLATE? 

But seriously, my idea of the most romantic romance in fiction is, and you knew it was going to be from this series, is Snape and Lily. And yeah, I KNOW they don't end up together. I think a really romantic love story is not one where the two people in love end up together and, oh I don't know, ride off into the sunset (doesn't it get uncomfortable, riding horseback that long?) but where they don't end up together, but one of them still stays devoted to the other. That's why I love that song by The Cure so much, "Love Song", you know? Love's supposed to be everlasting. It doesn't matter if the person you're in love with never notices you, or never ends up with you. Love isn't about being in a relationship, or sexual fulfillment, or marriage and a family, or intimacy- it's about loving a person, and being OK as long as they're alive, and happy, and safe. And definitely getting revenge on their murderer if they die, though. And being all nasty to their son if he's in your Potions class. And yeah, you knew it was going to come back to Snape. UPDATE FROM THE FUTURE: OK, look, I'm still a major Snilly shipper and omg the silver doe and "always" and so much crying and feels. But I think that's a really unhealthy idea of a relationship. So yeah, don't take love advice from my past self, or from Snape. (This goes for the distuuurbing paragraph right underneath this one as well.)

And yeah, sorry, I know most of that paragraph was grammatically incorrect and had a lot of person shifts. 

But see, this is what most people don't get- it doesn't mean you're unstable and crazy if you remain in love with someone even though they don't love you back. Because you don't want them to love you back! I mean, not that you would complain if they did, but you are OK with them being with someone else. And- and this is the most important point I stress- nobody's life should revolve around love. It doesn't make you weak to love someone, so long as that isn't the only point in your life. That's when you become that sad, creepy stalker stereotype that I referred to at the beginning of this paragraph. 

So, hey, look at that, this post started off as an excuse to not edit and turned into... 

Look, editing is hard, OK?

From your editing-hating poet, (just so you know editing should be banned. just for me, though; other authors should edit)

magic*esi