Ennui

I seem to be suffering from a bout of ennui, or so I think. Although, to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I completely understand all the nuances of the meaning of the word.

Anyway, that led me to Wikipedia, which led me to Sylvia Plath's poem of the same title:

SYLVIA PLATH

Ennui

Tea leaves thwart those who court catastrophe,
designing futures where nothing will occur:
cross the gypsy’s palm and yawning she
will still predict no perils left to conquer.
Jeopardy is jejune now: naïve knight
finds ogres out-of-date and dragons unheard
of, while blasé princesses indict
tilts at terror as downright absurd.

The beast in Jamesian grove will never jump,
compelling hero’s dull career to crisis;
and when insouciant angels play God’s trump,
while bored arena crowds for once look eager,
hoping toward havoc, neither pleas nor prizes
shall coax from doom’s blank door lady or tiger.

I think I rather like this poem. Like all good poems, this one probably has layers upon layers of hidden meaning that I have yet to understand, but I'll look into that later.

Speaking of Sylvia Plath, did you know she stuck her head in an oven? I think I knew that at some point, but had forgotten. It almost sounds comical until you realize how terrible it is that that's actually how her life ended. Never a good sign when you're so depressed you want to stick your head in the oven.

I think I'm going to start reading Jane Eyre, which I bought several months ago. I have this really bad habit of not reading the books that I actually own. I think it's because I figure that, since I own them, I'll have plenty of time to read them in the future. No rush, no deadline... leads to major procrastination.