How Embarrassing

HOW embarrassing. Today, I dropped my keys down the tiny gap between the elevator door and the ground floor. There was at least 5 seconds of silence before my keys finally splashed onto the hard concrete.

Mr. Building Manager, a surprisingly pleasant and affable chap, said it’s quite a process getting my keys back. He needs to call the elevator people. The “Elevator People”?

Anyway, it’s 3pm right now. No word yet from the Elevator People. Still no keys.

Overall, it’s been kind of a Monday-like Wednesday.

Mystery Smell

This enchanting scent has been following me all day. “Is it me?” I ask myself. Well there is no body else here, it must be me. Could it be my cologne? But you know, it doesn’t smell quite like my cologne, and I’ve been wearing the same cologne for a year now: Davidoff Cool Water–and it’s redolence is somewhat fading. But evenso, it can’t be my cologne; I distinctly remember forgeting to put it on this morning. I take in another loud full whiff of the air around me, smells absolutely divine. Why do I smell so great today? I assure you this is not pretension. Whenever I’m surprised at a smell I’m emitting it’s almost never something particularly agreeable; but today, quite the contrary.

Eventually as the day progresses I discover the source of this alluring scent. My underarms. It’s the new deodorant I purchased: Old Spice Fresh Gel.

It may just be deodorant, but it’s Heavenly.

Death be Not Proud

I noticed that after my post on Sadie and Maud (which I thought no one would read), I started to receive dozens of search engine referrals for that post. I assume they’re all from English students looking for a critical analysis or essay of some sort on that poem. Hey, honestly, before I even started to write that essay, I plugged away at a few websites myself towards the same end and I think I left the internet disappointed from finding nothing. So, for posterity, and particularly for other desperate English Majors out there looking for an essay to steer them clear on John Donne’s cryptic little poem Death Be Not Proud, I leave you the essay I wrote for class on this poem. Keep in mind, it’s another last minute hack I put together, but hey, it passed, whatever.

Analysis on John Donne’s “Death Be Not Proud” (doc | html)

Death Be Not Proud
by John Donne
DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell’st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

Sadie and Maud

By: Gwendolyn Brooks

Maud went to college.
Sadie stayed home.
Sadie scraped life
With a fine toothed comb.

She didn’t leave a tangle in
Her comb found every strand.
Sadie was one of the livingest chicks
In all the land.

Sadie bore two babies
Under her maiden name.
Maud and Ma and Papa
Nearly died of shame.

When Sadie said her last so-long
Her girls struck out from home.
(Sadie left as heritage
Her fine-toothed comb.)

Maud, who went to college,
Is a thin brown mouse.
She is living all alone
In this old house.


Alright, you’re not making much sense. You break two months of silence with a cut-and-paste poem and write it off as a post? This I don’t accept. Explanations please.

Okay, okay. Some reasons for my brief hiatus:

1. My incorrigible laziness
2. My new job
3. School-work: papers and papers and papers, Courier New, and MLA, and citations, and ixnay on the personal pronouns, passive voice? What’s passive voice?

This is not a cut-and-paste poem–not exactly. There was a preceding Google search then the cut-and-paste. I actually had to write a paper on “Sadie and Maud” for class.

Before I began my own analysis, my roommate Mark gave a crack at it. He had a completely different take on this poem than I did–different but valid.

To him, Sadie was an alcoholic with a dissipated lifestyle who eventually commits suicide and passes on this lifestyle to her progeny. Mark maintains that the author is not favoring Sadie’s life over Maud’s but is sympathetic to both.

Interesting take on the poem, and I certainly don’t find it wrong.

My understanding is a little different. I don’t believe Sadie is as dissolute as Mark suggests but rather, admirably lives her life under her own choices. Maud on the other hand, lives the life she is expected to live. I don’t think Sadie commits suicide, and I think the legacy she leaves for girls is to sieze life with passion. Maud is the one to be sorry for, not Sadie.

So what do you think the poem means? Whose life appears better? Sadie or Maud?

full essay (doc|html)