Mommy and me

This is the best weekend in a while.

Freshman blues

I took a five-hour nap today, so being up right now doesn't bother me.

I also talked to Katy about transferring; she encouraged me to at least look around because if anything it'll help solidify reasons why Geneseo does work for me . . . she went through a similar thing last year as far as doubts about being here are concerned.

It's unsurprising, I guess, that the gripes I have with this place reflect the trepidations I had when looking at schools senior year. I wanted to be in a somewhat metropolitan area, and I didn't want to be too far from home. I didn't want to be shipped upstate somewhere where the only activity on the weekends is drinking.

Funny how things work out.

When I really put everything into perspective, I'm about 95% sure that I'm staying. I couldn't ask for better friends here, I have a scholarship, and there's no way I'll be able to transfer all my credits and be paying a comparable tuition somewhere else. What I need is a reality check, an assurance that yes, there is a world outside this campus and yes, I am still a part of it.

Katy told me that while everyone says the first semester is hard, the reality is that the first year is the hardest of your life. I believe her completely, but I just find it so difficult to grasp that it'll take a full quarter of my undergraduate career to adjust . . . and I think that's why I'm so skeptical right now.

(exhale)

For the first time in a while, things seem okay because everything in my life is on the same plane.

I'm through

I looked down and I didn't know what to think
Vapor trails from the engine of this plane
Shut my eyes and I flew right from this place
Made a wish and I blew it all away
Then I was alone

Right now the sun fills up the sky
And waves of color beat in time
Tell all my friends I'm seeing them again
I'm on a great divide
There is no doubt, I'm never coming back
The story of my life

I was down and I did not understand
Was afraid couldn't wash it off my hands
So I rose and I flew right from that place
Got my wish that I'll never be the same
Then I was alone

Right now the sun fills up the sky
And waves of color beat in time
Tell all my friends I'm seeing them again
I'm on a great divide
There is no doubt, I'm never coming back
The story of my life
Now I'm fine

I'm through

Then I was alone
But it won't be long

I'm through

Guster

Serenade me with sheep's guts

We all have our weird ways of dealing with stuff. Some people exercise, others go driving. My mom moves furniture. I take epically long showers. You could look at it metaphorically, I guess . . . washing troubles away, etc. etc. Anyways, after posting last night I took a forty minute shower, during which time I departmentalized everything that was bothering me, categorizing problems into things I have control over and things that I don't.

It was quite effective.

I'm currently in love with Fruit Bats; they make me wish I could set words to music. Or at least be able to shoddily play guitar or something. Speaking of guitars . . .

"Is it not strange that sheeps' guts should hale souls out of men's bodies?"
-Benedick, Much Ado About Nothing

He was referring to the strings of a lute or guitar or whatever they played in Shakespeare's time; they used to be made out of sheep intestine. God, I love Shakespeare.

"Just keep swimming," says Dory

Watching the lunar eclipse before reminded me of being in New York, because it's one of those times when you realize how small you are in the scheme of things . . . but instead of feeling insignificant you feel more connected to everything because you're a part of something so big and awesome.

The future is starting to worry me a little bit. Worry's not the right word. It's . . . becoming more apparent, I guess. The reality of becoming an adult member of society is becoming more apparent, and I'm starting to wonder where I'll fit in. It's daunting. And if I learned anything from the whole college application process, it's that while being idealistic is nice and all as far as creating goals is concerned, when things don't turn out exactly as you expected them to, it just sets you back. I don't really know what the conclusion of this thought process is, but the whole thing has just been on my mind a lot.

I've been so distracted lately, partly because I really miss home. I'm also doing that thing where I worry about my schoolwork so much that it prevents me from actually getting it done . . . the not sleeping thing doesn't help, either. Anyways, because my brain has all but exploded I feel like my social skills have been very sub-par and it's not for lack of caring; I just can't seem to get it together.

I don't know. I feel like I'm treading water instead of actually swimming.

A spork could work

Sad but true: it has come to the point where I'll stir my coffee with anything--a knife, my finger, a pen--rather than simply wash the spoons that have been sitting out. Not sure how I feel about my stereotypically collegiate behavior.

Not sure how I feel about a lot of things, for that matter.

What I do know, though, is that if I live out the rest of this week, Ellen and I will kick off our radio show on Saturday night and it will be amazing. Doubtlessly amazing.

Regretfully, I notice that

the last of my coffee is cold,
milky marbled surface
like the oily swirls
of a puddle in the driveway

and the rings circling the wall
of its mug are like those of a tree,
significant spirals marking
each time you crossed
my mind tonight.

Those numbers can sing!

Oh, dinosaur comics. Have you ever heard of synesthesia? I wonder how I'd feel if I had it . . . do you think it'd be bothersome? Wikipedia says that most people think the sensations are either "pleasant or neutral," so I shouldn't even be curious because Wikipedia is ALWAYS RIGHT. Heh. Seriously, though, you'd have the most vivid imagination ever. I wonder what the effect would be if a colorblind person had synesthesia . . . music in grayscale?

The next time someone tells you they think the pattern on your shirt is "pretty loud," keep in mind that maybe they mean it literally.

Zombie sightings

I wish I could translate things that I see into photographs, like if I could connect a USB cable to my brain and upload things that I note from day to day and post them here. That's what a blog is, essentially, but having a picture say a thousand words for me is far quicker.

Anyways, what I wish I could show you is the view from the corner window of the top floor in the library. There are snow-covered fields in the valley below, and they're completely flat and empty except for these two black trees that look like bony zombie hands protruding from the ground. I see it every hour I go around and do the head counts while I'm working, and wish I had an internal camera every time.

It's snowing.

Caffeinated love

Today is one of those days where everything is felt more acutely from lack of sleep. Last night I could not concentrate on my work for some reason or another, so instead I just sat at my computer while my mind kept buzzing until I threw in the towel around 2:30.

Cue twisted logic:

I set three alarms on my phone: one for 4:15, another for 4:25, and a third for 4:30. It seemed like a good idea . . . power nap for two hours and then spend four finishing a paper and studying s'more for astronomy! Yeah!

No. 4:15, 4:25, and 4:30 came and went, and I woke up at 7:30 instead. Everything got done and I think I did pretty well on my test . . . so all's well that ends well.

Anyways. As far as feeling things more acutely goes, I felt like my heart was sending me Morse code all morning because I didn't have anything but coffee . . . skippy skip skipping all over the place . . . I guess you could argue that caffeine was my Valentine, making my heart all a-flutter.

Well, THAT love is totally requited.

I miss home, s0 I'm going to Starbucks tomorrow. It's the next best thing.

psalm to the john

i enter, feet bare in deference to the purity
of your hallowed hall
___cool tile taj mahal
___no mecca to the masses
retreating to the temple of privacy
that closes with a knob
___immaculate throne
___no nest of two-cent paper
leaving me absolved with ankles unexposed
i may be cleansed of sin in your basin
free of toothpaste desecration
___slick belly
___no concave collector of foreign hairs
and the sabbath prayers i hurl
to the porcelain god turn to songs
of praise on not finding his omnipotence
___in a communal bathroom


This is my praise poem. I feel like this is one of those times when I'm either really right or really, really wrong. But it's also one of those times when I'm willing to risk it.

Also, I have no idea why it won't let me indent, but it won't . . . hence the underlining of blank space. Whatevs.

All hail the little snail

I'm sitting in the library cafe, waiting for my next library shift to start, and it smells like cinnamon. I love the smell of cinnamon anything--it reminds me of my mom making cinnamon toast late at night or early in the morning . . . that and the fact that it makes me want to wrap myself in a blanket and watch Pride and Prejudice with a cup of tea make it one of my favorite smells.

I have to write a 'praise poem' for creative writing tomorrow. It's been on my mind for a while so it's not like I've been putting it off, I'm just utterly uninspired. The assignment is to write about something that isn't typically seen as praiseworthy . . . the example given was Komunyakaa's "Ode to the Maggot":

Brother of the blowfly
And godhead, you work magic
Over battlefields,
In slabs of bad pork

And flophouses. Yes, you
Go to the root of all things.
You are sound & mathematical.
Jesus Christ, you're merciless

With the truth. Ontological & lustrous,
You cast spells on beggars & kings
Behind the stone door of Caesar's tomb
Or split trench in a field of ragweed.

No decree or creed can outlaw you
As you take every living thing apart. Little
Master of earth, no one gets to heaven
Without going through you first.

I wish I were that clever. Sigh. Writer's block, please go away.

HAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, upadate. I title my entries just before posting, and I was trying to remember the wording of that Fatboy Slim song (and make it the title), so I typed 'praise you like I should' into google and one of the first links to appear was for this YouTube video. The video was titled "I have to praise you like I should," and the description read: "I made this video to show how cool snails really are."

WATCH IT: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ragTl31qWDw

I have found my inspiration. Oh slimy snail, shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Frozen fingers, frozen brain

I can't even express to you how cold it is here. During the summer, my friend Margaret was telling me about a week last winter when you couldn't go out unless your face was covered . . . before today, whenever it seemed unbearably frigid here I'd just remember what she said and think, "Well, at least it's not that bad . . ."

It's that bad.

Unfortunately, my crazy logic is beginning to kick in, which goes as follows:
1. It is painfully cold outside.
2. Pain is one of those things that should be avoided.
3. It would be in the school's best interest to avoid putting its students in pain.
THUS . . .
4. Classes should be canceled tomorrow.

I feel like I'm in grade school again, checking my email every two seconds to see if this conceived notion has come to term. It hasn't. It won't. There will be class tomorrow, and I will be exhausted for it.

While sifting through nonsense

I am ink, indelible after washing
Drown me in a sea
I will only spread.

Don't ever tell anybody anything.

If you do, you start missing everybody.

-Holden Caulfield, The Catcher in the Rye

Labels

I think it's so funny, the way that people feel the need to label themselves. Examples:

Katy told me that in Puerto Rico (I think that's where she said), gay men grow their hair into rat tails so they can distinguish themselves from straight men.

Tattoos, perhaps the most literal way to label yourself.

Then you've got clothing. I don't exclude myself from this at all, but just walking around campus I think it's so weird to see everyone defining themselves as 'GENESEO EDUCATION' or 'GENESEO BIOLOGY' or 'GENESEO PONG TEAM,' whatever. There are automatically assumptions made and meaning ascribed to what you choose to say on your chest, and no one is excluded from scrutiny. Not to be weird, but I think it's cool to think about.

However, I do wish that people chose to label themselves with information that was useful. Like if you're a tool, everyone would benefit from you emblazoning your sweatshirt with my favorite four letter word instead of your favorite college team. Like a visual sieve. Awesome.

If you had to wear a word, what word would it be?

I'm seriously curious; if you happen to read this, please comment a response. Don't even tell me who you are, just post a word. It doesn't have to be an adjective . . . any sort of word will do. Just think--if someone were to ascribe meaning to you, what would you want them to think right off the bat?

I think mine would be 'ink.'

Things I am not in the mood for:

- ambiguity
- work tonight
- sorting out feelings
- practicing straight lines in the Roman alphabet
- being viewed as solely a sounding board

Things I am impatient for:

- Starbucks
- watching Twin Peaks
- broomball and basketball
- the radio show
- Michal's visit
- feeling confident about my schoolwork

Things I wish I could have this very second:

- a Keira hug

Ash-face

I have resolved to learn all the basics about major religions in an attempt to not be ignorant. Why now, you ask? It's Ash Wednesday, and I've had two people come up to me and concernedly tell me that I had something on my forehead.

Le sigh.

Death by Milne

The second I settle into the swivel chair and find my place in Confessions, someone comes up to the desk. It never fails.

I have twelve minutes left in this shift . . . I got here at 1 o'clock and haven't left since. Six hours. I need air.

The countdown begins

There are some people in the world that you just click with. That you don't need constant interaction with because no matter what the divide is, be it time or distance or both, things always fall back into place when you reconnect.

While there may not be a need for constant interaction, seeing a friend you've been a continent apart from for half a year is pretty damn exciting, TO SAY THE VERY LEAST. Michal called me today with the best news I've heard in a long while--she's coming to America for a few weeks at the end of the month, and she's coming to see me at school!

I just started crying when she told me. She has a knack for being there for me (even if not in person) exactly when I need her. It's wonderfully uncanny.

Anyways, she is one of my favorite people in the entire world and I am counting down the days until she gets to the States and to Geneseo.

Feeling old

The difficult thing about becoming an adult is realizing how much has been going on while you've been growing up.

It's a lot to catch up on.

Also, 'face value' is beginning to seem like a novelty. Sigh.