blah blah Blog

So much has happened this week, but not the kind of thing I blog about. What can I say about the election that hasn't been said already? What can I share about people I meet, people I know, possibility all around, imminent...

I'm flattered that Todd from the Legion of Tech just asked me to do a video bit for Ignite. There's not enough time to do something really cool, though. I'll see what I can wrangle up.

In preparation for an exciting week, then, let's have a poem.

Portrait of a Woman, by Wislawa Szymborska

She should be willing to please.
To change, so that nothing should change.
It's easy, impossible, hard, worth trying.
Her eyes are if need be now deep blue, now gray,
dark, playful, filled for no reason with tears.
She sleeps with him like some change acquaintance, like his one and only.
She will bear him four children, no children, one.
Naive yet giving the best advice.
Weak yet lifting the weightiest burdens.
Has no head on her shoulders but will have.
Reads Jaspers and ladies' magazines.
Doesn't know what this screw is for and will build a bridge.
Young, as usual young, as always still young.
Holds in her hands a sparrow with a broken wing,
her own money for a journey long and distant,
a meat-cleaver, poultice, and a shot of vodka.
Where is she running so, isn't she tired?
Not at all, just a bit, very much, doesn't matter.
Either she loves him or has made up her mind to.
For better, for worse, and for heaven's sake.