After all, it IS the most wonderful time of the year.

Completed college applications. Submitted Sterling Scholar applications. Major tests of the week behind me. Now I can focus on the new season. I love you, Christmas.

Thank you, Elbow

I'm pretty sure that, when I created this blog, I committed to never, ever posting just a song. I'm breaking that vow. The good thing about breaking it now is that it's not because I'm hopelessly depressed or awkwardly in love and need to expell my feelings into the world through somebody else's creation. The good thing about breaking it now is that I'm in a dang good mood and I want you to be, too. Go listen to it.

One Day Like This: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQIdXKz4sE8

Drinking in the morning sun
Blinking in the morning sun
Shaking off a heavy one
Yeah, heavy like a loaded gun

What made me behave that way?
Using words I never say
I can only think it must be love
Oh anyway, it's looking like a beautiful day

Someone tell me how I feel
It's silly wrong, but vivid right
Oh, kiss me like a final meal
Yeah, kiss me like we die tonight

'Cause holy cow, I love your eyes
And only now I see the light
Yeah, lying with you half awake
Stumbling over what to say
Oh, anyway, it's looking like a beautiful day

When my face is chamois creased
If you think I wink, I did
Laugh politely at repeats
Yeah, kiss me when my lips are thin

'Cause holy cow, I love your eyes
And only now I see the light
Yeah, lying with you half awake
Stumbling over what to say
Well, anyway, it's looking like a beautiful day

So throw those curtains wide
One day like this a year would see me right
Throw those curtains wide
One day like this a year would see me right (repeat)

You are very, very welcome.

Decline

The golden evening sunshine glorifies the Autumn;
Vibrant, proud and regal.
It shakes its mane back and sits with its chest high,
Quite aware it is admired.
But the haughty basking stage is short-lived.
Chill sweeps down the mountainside,
Repressing Autumn's power, wringing it dry and draining it of color,
Humbling it to the brittle, washed-out state the rest of the world has succumbed to.
And we, powerless subjects to this new host,
Drop our eyes and respectfully murmur that this is just
As we retreat into the stale, manufactured comfort of heated houses
With bitter thoughts towards that snuffer of life,
There to hibernate in monotony 
Until color graces
the world
once
more.