start my finals tomorrow. I'm a little nervous. Enough to have seen three movies corny in this weekend. One of them gave me the following poem: One Art
Elizabeth Bishop The art of losing isn't hard to master;
So Many Things seem filled with the intent to Be Lost That
Their loss is no disaster.
Lose Something Every Day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys
, the Badly hour spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice
losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
— Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
December has come .. my birthday with him
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