My name is Kelly Schomburg, I’m the girl with the red hair in these pictures. I was protesting at the Occupy Wall Street march yesterday when I and several other women were sprayed with mace and subsequently arrested. Many have already seen the video, which has been spreading like wildfire over twitter, Facebook, tumblr, and other video feeds, along with hundreds of other photos and videos. This is my recount of what happened.
“I have bowls filled with dreams;
Bowls big enough for two.
We don’t need anything else.
Turn your back on the moon with me.
If you let me kiss your arms, forever I will fold the shirts and bring you tea”—
I have something here worth fighting for. I am here, it’s now, I can’t lie in bed thinking that something will change because I think about the past and my past mistakes. I can’t think too far into the future because what does that do me? I can’t imagine married life, I can’t imagine my future career. I can work for something but I can’t imagine my future life. I just have to be present and stop wasting time. I want to delete facebook, compile a list of names, numbers, e-mails, and skype usernames, keep them in a bound book, carry the book with me, keep some of them in my cell phone. I want to keep my tumblr; it’s a release for me. I want to stop thinking that I’m wasting my time by doing certain things. I am not wasting time, I am just living slowly. I am here and I will continue to be here and I will not tune out and I will not constantly try to escape.
and that is become an architectural journalist or just that dude that writes sweet articles in all those architecture magazines and blogs. i’ve always loved writing and i want to use my architecture degree (i can’t really see myself practicing for the rest of my life). i’ve been e-mailing editors from big magazines and webzines like archdaily and architectural record and i’m going to meet with my adviser here at school and see what my options are.
It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love- I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsman came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me- Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we- Of many far wiser than we- And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.
“And maybe the measure of our reading should therefore be, not the number of books we’ve read, but the state in which they leave us. What does it matter how cultivated and up-to-date we are, or how many thousands of books we’ve read? What matters is how we feel, how we see, what we do after reading; whether the street and the clouds and the existence of others mean anything to us; whether reading makes us, physically, more alive.”—
“But really, how important is happiness? When I ask my students, ‘Was Jesus happy?’ — Was Buddha or Confucius happy? Was Mother Teresa happy? Socrates? Martin Luther King Jr.? Gandhi? Sojourner Truth? — they immediately see that meaning, purpose, significance, flourishing and fulfillment are different from happiness and that happiness is not the main or most important thing.”—Owen Flanagan