Silver Glow's Journal

by Admiral Biscuit


January 19 [Hope is the thing with feathers]

January 19

Hope is the thing with feathers.

We started poetry with Emily Dickinson today. She didn't publish very many poems in her lifetime, but after she died they were discovered and people loved them very much.

She was a sad, lonely person, and I wonder if she would have been happier if she had given her poems to the world while she was still alive. I think she would have been.

It made me think of my journal—would I want it published? How would I feel if I knew other people were reading it? What would they think of me? Would they like me, or would they think I'm vain for writing so much about me? Maybe I should put other things in the journal, too, and that way it's not just about me.

But journals are supposed to be personal, aren't they? So I should just put what I want in it and I guess if somebody else reads it and they don't like it that's okay.

Some ponies think that elders don't have a sense of humor. That they're set in their ways, and don't want to change. And maybe that's true. Maybe they often think of the springs gone by and lament their lost youth . . . but I don't think that Professor Hillberry's opening poem was chosen at random. He looked right at me when he announced it, and there was a twinkle in his eye.

I read the whole poem aloud, even though he hadn't asked me. It was short, and beautiful.

The class just flew by as we read and discussed her poems, both the hopeful and the mournful. Most of her poems were short—all the ones we read were. Just a brief image, almost like a painting of words, but enough for me to see it in my mind.

I had an extra spring in my step after class. Poetry always cheers me up, even when it's a little bit sad.

I decided to try something a bit different for lunch. I thought of how Emily Dickinson had been scared to publish her poems and had missed an opportunity to touch people with her words while she was still alive (and what if nobody had ever found them?) and even if it was a bit presumptuous of me to compare myself with her, I was going to try eating in the dark room, as long as somebody I knew was there.

I admit, when I was on the threshold, I had second thoughts, and I almost hoped that I wouldn't see anyone, but Keith was there.

I thought I didn't know him very well, then I cursed myself for being a silly filly, and carried my tray over to the table and sat down across from him.

He was a little surprised at first, and he wasn't the only one. While we were eating, a few more people who had played cards last night came and sat down, and a couple of others besides. Each one of them kind of hesitated when they saw me sitting there, and I started to get a bit nervous, like maybe I was supposed to be invited to sit at their table and Keith had just been too polite to tell me.

Then I got mad at myself for being nervous. They were all nice and friendly last night, except for some of the stuff they said during the game, but that wasn't meant to be taken seriously. We said kind of mean things sometimes when we were playing games but we never really meant them.

I didn't stick around for very long after I'd finished my meal, though. I probably could have stayed and chatted with them, but the room was beginning to crowd in on me. Maybe humans like it when it's dark and confined, but I don't. We learned that humans used to live in caves, and maybe dark room reminded them of their ancestor's caves.

Otherwise, I don't know why they'd make a room without any decent windows. There are a couple, but they aren't enough to really brighten it up.

Between that and staying up past my bedtime last night, I thought I might as well take a nap.

Peggy wasn't in the room, and it was nice and quiet in the rest of the dorm as well. On weekends and after dinner, people have their doors open and usually want to be social, but usually during the day, there isn't much going on in the dorms.

When I woke up, Peggy was sitting at her desk, doing her homework. It was a little strange to see her with a notebook and pencil, rather than her computer.

According to the clock, it would be over an hour until dinnertime, so I could wash my sheets and then put them in the dryer so that they would be ready when I was done with dinner. I had to borrow Peggy's soap, because I didn't have any.

I ate dinner at the usual table. Tonight they had Chinese food, and the rice was very good, as were the spring rolls.

When I'd finished my meal, Christine put a small cookie on my tray, She said it was called a fortune cookie, because there was a fortune inside, and she broke hers open to show me.

It wasn't as easy for me to open, and I finally settled on crushing it underhoof, and then extracting the paper. Christine thought that was hilarious.

It said 'You find beauty in ordinary things,' which I thought was really appropriate.

She asked what it had said, and I said I thought that I should keep it to myself, but she said it isn't fun that way. So I told her, and she added 'in bed.' Then she explained how you're supposed to add 'in bed' to every fortune, which made hers read 'You will witness a special ceremony in bed.'

If the fortune was supposed to say that these things happened in bed, why didn't they just put it on the paper? Besides, why would I have to be in bed to see beauty in ordinary things? Couldn't I go outside and look at a cloud or a sunrise or the stars above?

When I got back to the dorm room, though, I experimented. Maybe I ought to give the fortune cookie the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it was wiser than I was.

I picked the most ordinary thing in my room. That was actually harder than I thought it would be. While the function of many of the things is the same as it would be in Equestria, the form isn't. Still, I'd gotten used to it during the few weeks this has been my home, and some of the wonder at the mundane has worn off.

My desk was as ordinary as anything, and I stood in the middle of the room and examined it, then I sat in bed and did the same. It didn't look any different.

Then, in order to reverse the experiment, I looked at Peggy's laundry basket, which has a lacy black bra hanging over the edge of it.

I tried to focus on the basket, since that was plain and ordinary. It's made out of plastic rather than wicker, but otherwise it's very plain. However, my eye kept being drawn to the bra and how intricate it was. I hadn't really paid them that much attention, especially since she covered hers up with a shirt right after putting it on, and usually threw them right in the basket once she was done wearing them.

Upon closer examination, it was a beautifully crafted piece of clothing, with intricate lacework and tiny little clasps on the back, something that would be the envy of every dressmaker on Equestria. Yet, to her it was so ordinary that rather than proudly wear it where everyone could see, she covered it up with a shirt.

I still wasn't totally convinced, though. I would have asked Peggy, but she wasn't back before I went to sleep. In bed.