I have been thinking lately about the transitory nature of relationships--about how dramatically my social sphere has shifted over the last four years, and how dramatically it will shift in the next four--and I feel a little lonely.
Though I am sure there will be fulfilling relationships in my life, it is unsettling and uncomfortable to recognize that I have no control over them. To some extent, I can make an intentional effort and foster relationships I care about, but there are way too many other factors at play. I probably won't even be living in this country, for one. Kind of a big one.
It also made me feel a bit nostalgic. Even beyond high school, there are friends from freshman, sophomore, even junior year that I never even speak with anymore.
One such person is named Lisa. From my old myspace comments (yea.. i went back and read a bunch) I know we considered each other friends once, but now we are just passing acquaintances.
Well, she is also one of my super-buddy's roommates and tonight we re-bonded over procrastination, boy horror stories, facebook, and pointless giggles. We exchanged numbers (oo la la) and made plans to bake in high heels next semester (Don't ask).
Strange how a funny little interaction can buoy me up. :) yea for a new-old friend!
/randomness
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
epic procrastination
What I did instead of studying for my French final (which starts in two hours)
-slept in
-had breakfast with friends
-Went to starbucks
-stared at a wall
-revised a paper
-went to Mahoney's
-danced until 1 a.m.
-slept in
-took my time getting ready
-made breakfast
-read blogs
-typed this blog
-watched YouTube videos
-revised this blog
So long, G.P.A.
-slept in
-had breakfast with friends
-Went to starbucks
-stared at a wall
-revised a paper
-went to Mahoney's
-danced until 1 a.m.
-slept in
-took my time getting ready
-made breakfast
-read blogs
-typed this blog
-watched YouTube videos
-revised this blog
So long, G.P.A.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
End of Semester To Do
I know it is sometimes annoying when people post To Do lists on blogs... but I am going to do it anyways. :P
-Study for Brit Lit.: Final Monday.
-Study for French: Final Wednesday.
-Write Student Population Paper for TESL: research Japanese view of Education/English, research history of Japan, write paper. Due Monday: 4 pages.
-Write Final for TESL: choose favorite aspects of all theories and practices. Correlate into paper. Due Friday: 3-4 pages
-Complete profile of place for Advanced Expos: visit Mahoney's, observe, write, edit. Due Wednesday: +2 pages
-Write Final Paper for Literary Theory: choose a topic..., formulate thesis, write, cower, beg, write, die, have panic attack, write, edit if possible, turn in with a healthy dose of fear. Due Wednesday: 10 pages.
Total: 2 tests and about 20 pages. Not too shabby.
Yeah, I am not going to make it... that last paper... crap.
-Study for Brit Lit.: Final Monday.
-Study for French: Final Wednesday.
-Write Student Population Paper for TESL: research Japanese view of Education/English, research history of Japan, write paper. Due Monday: 4 pages.
-Write Final for TESL: choose favorite aspects of all theories and practices. Correlate into paper. Due Friday: 3-4 pages
-Complete profile of place for Advanced Expos: visit Mahoney's, observe, write, edit. Due Wednesday: +2 pages
-Write Final Paper for Literary Theory: choose a topic..., formulate thesis, write, cower, beg, write, die, have panic attack, write, edit if possible, turn in with a healthy dose of fear. Due Wednesday: 10 pages.
Total: 2 tests and about 20 pages. Not too shabby.
Yeah, I am not going to make it... that last paper... crap.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Strange and Aloof
A journal/observation assignment for Brit Lit. Kinda fun. :)
We successfully study at my apartment for about an hour before the silence and bareness become painfully distracting. We, My Strange Friend and I, need utter only one word: Mahoney’s.
I plink down and he plops, ordering our favorites from memory and recognizing The Waitress’s smile. Shadowy regulars and giggly familiars fill each booth, glasses raised and lowered, orders sung and carried. Football glares from every wall, miming the week’s failures and accomplishments.
Across from us, I spot a familiar pair. His hair is still too long and hers is too short— That Couple shuffles chess pieces across the board. I know their history and guess their future: tumultuous. Each smile betrays dozens of frowns, tears, and “headaches.” Under buttery lamps, he melts into the booth. She, crisp brown hair flipping, commands the conversation, draining compliments from his pale lips. Behind them, The Trendy Two gesticulate dramatically, white teeth glancing off black-framed glasses. Their past is as mysterious to me as her real hair color, but I like to imagine their wedding. I can’t picture her in white.
The fries arrive, steaming, and we dig in greedily. My Strange Friend claimed he wasn’t very hungry, but manages to eat significantly more than his portion before I can make a dent. My growls don’t scare him much anymore. Shame. He continues to relate to me the tragedy of Ex-Girlfriend The Second, and I feign interest in his metaphysical poetry diary. I hope he wasn’t this open with her, though that would certainly explain things.
Before long, a new friend, Mr. Aloof, joins us. His chillness gives me shivers, and I resolve to crack him. I lean forward and ask about his classes, his recent performance, even theology, but his arms remain welded to his puffy chest. Mr. Aloof does not even pink at overt flirtation. Something is off there.
The guys go out to walk about, something about male comradery, and I am left to observe. That Couple’s male portion folds forward, sending black and red discs scattering from his translucent cheeks. She distorts into a careful mixture of disgust and pity, straightens up and away from him, and tries to keep his untidy forelocks from polluting her soup. They’re meant to be, I am sure. Trendiness has run out of words, so they clasp hands instead, leaning into a competitive game of stare. I place my bet on him while unsuccessfully picturing her in a lacy veil.
Strange and Aloof waltz back, brimming with secret, manly confidences. I long for a sturdy cane to swing at them both, just for a little extra entertainment, and maybe to see if Aloof will break character. Likely not. Strange drives me home, converted back to his secret poet-self without the masculating presence of his friend to hinder him. I join in his sigh for lost love despite my embitterment. Back in bareness and silence, I embrace distraction as it lulls me to sleep.
We successfully study at my apartment for about an hour before the silence and bareness become painfully distracting. We, My Strange Friend and I, need utter only one word: Mahoney’s.
I plink down and he plops, ordering our favorites from memory and recognizing The Waitress’s smile. Shadowy regulars and giggly familiars fill each booth, glasses raised and lowered, orders sung and carried. Football glares from every wall, miming the week’s failures and accomplishments.
Across from us, I spot a familiar pair. His hair is still too long and hers is too short— That Couple shuffles chess pieces across the board. I know their history and guess their future: tumultuous. Each smile betrays dozens of frowns, tears, and “headaches.” Under buttery lamps, he melts into the booth. She, crisp brown hair flipping, commands the conversation, draining compliments from his pale lips. Behind them, The Trendy Two gesticulate dramatically, white teeth glancing off black-framed glasses. Their past is as mysterious to me as her real hair color, but I like to imagine their wedding. I can’t picture her in white.
The fries arrive, steaming, and we dig in greedily. My Strange Friend claimed he wasn’t very hungry, but manages to eat significantly more than his portion before I can make a dent. My growls don’t scare him much anymore. Shame. He continues to relate to me the tragedy of Ex-Girlfriend The Second, and I feign interest in his metaphysical poetry diary. I hope he wasn’t this open with her, though that would certainly explain things.
Before long, a new friend, Mr. Aloof, joins us. His chillness gives me shivers, and I resolve to crack him. I lean forward and ask about his classes, his recent performance, even theology, but his arms remain welded to his puffy chest. Mr. Aloof does not even pink at overt flirtation. Something is off there.
The guys go out to walk about, something about male comradery, and I am left to observe. That Couple’s male portion folds forward, sending black and red discs scattering from his translucent cheeks. She distorts into a careful mixture of disgust and pity, straightens up and away from him, and tries to keep his untidy forelocks from polluting her soup. They’re meant to be, I am sure. Trendiness has run out of words, so they clasp hands instead, leaning into a competitive game of stare. I place my bet on him while unsuccessfully picturing her in a lacy veil.
Strange and Aloof waltz back, brimming with secret, manly confidences. I long for a sturdy cane to swing at them both, just for a little extra entertainment, and maybe to see if Aloof will break character. Likely not. Strange drives me home, converted back to his secret poet-self without the masculating presence of his friend to hinder him. I join in his sigh for lost love despite my embitterment. Back in bareness and silence, I embrace distraction as it lulls me to sleep.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
vulnerabilty--the third attempt.
Last night in Idaho I journaled, read, prayed about a reoccurring issue in my life: relationships. After about an hour I had the urge to go dig up my high school journals and after much garage attic searching I found all six of them. Back in my old room, I flipped through pages of journal entries dating from 1999--full of thoughts, prayers, doodles, and, especially, boys. Time, it seems, has softened my memory of myself. I remembered being a bit excessive in relationships but I had conveniently forgotten the ... overlap.
At fifteen years old, I was stringing along four guys from three states while "dating" at least two of them at a time. 0_0 Umm... not good.
Initially I was disgusted. I called myself a barrage of dirty names and burrowed into my pillow with shame. I ... cheated. I was chronically unfaithful for years. How have I managed to gloss over that fact for all this time?
Then, I remembered the past four years and encouragement found me. I have changed dramatically. I don't even recognize that horribly self-conscious, under-conscienced little girl. I am a completely different person and the thought of being unfaithful in a relationship is unthinkable. Completely repulsive.
Out of this I praised God infinitely. To think where I could be right now! If not for that missions trip, if not for this school, if not for those friends, those guy friends, that new perspective, WHO would I be?? I shudder to think.
This encouragement brandished a warning or two. I am still self-conscious, still place Relationship as a too high priority, and still have a lot left to learn. A long way left to go.
But. BUT, I am so thankful for how far I have come!!
At fifteen years old, I was stringing along four guys from three states while "dating" at least two of them at a time. 0_0 Umm... not good.
Initially I was disgusted. I called myself a barrage of dirty names and burrowed into my pillow with shame. I ... cheated. I was chronically unfaithful for years. How have I managed to gloss over that fact for all this time?
Then, I remembered the past four years and encouragement found me. I have changed dramatically. I don't even recognize that horribly self-conscious, under-conscienced little girl. I am a completely different person and the thought of being unfaithful in a relationship is unthinkable. Completely repulsive.
Out of this I praised God infinitely. To think where I could be right now! If not for that missions trip, if not for this school, if not for those friends, those guy friends, that new perspective, WHO would I be?? I shudder to think.
This encouragement brandished a warning or two. I am still self-conscious, still place Relationship as a too high priority, and still have a lot left to learn. A long way left to go.
But. BUT, I am so thankful for how far I have come!!
Sunday, November 16, 2008
reprieve
Tonight I begged God to help me feel a little less overwhelmed, a little less alone. I didn't ask for total relief, because I know my life is my responsibility, too, and I would not be willing to part with any of the things which are causing this stress (class, newspaper, JET, work). But I did ask for a tiny reprieve, just enough so that I could crawl out of bed tomorrow without cursing.
Enter the security guard--a fifty-year-old man who drove me home once before, maybe a month ago.
"ReBekha, right?" he asked.
That was all it took. That sweet man remembered my name, asked about my JET application, and reminded me that I am not, wholly, invisible.
Enter the security guard--a fifty-year-old man who drove me home once before, maybe a month ago.
"ReBekha, right?" he asked.
That was all it took. That sweet man remembered my name, asked about my JET application, and reminded me that I am not, wholly, invisible.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Je déteste le français.
Je ne sais pas maintenant.
Nous buvons, vous pouvez, ils vont.
Par quel train partez-vous?
C'est ici. C'est parfait. Ce, cet, cette, ces.
Un, deux, trois, soir.
Je suis fatigué. Je suis très fatigué.
Bonne nuit mon amis. "Bonne matin" pour moi.
Nous buvons, vous pouvez, ils vont.
Par quel train partez-vous?
C'est ici. C'est parfait. Ce, cet, cette, ces.
Un, deux, trois, soir.
Je suis fatigué. Je suis très fatigué.
Bonne nuit mon amis. "Bonne matin" pour moi.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Vulnerability 2.0
I wrote a short story. Just finished it, in fact. It is almost true, with some added flavor and changed names. Mostly, it is about my first college relationship and the terrible drama which followed. It is funny writing about the events now that I am so far past them, but mostly it is encouraging. It was such a long period of pain that to finally be past it--fully, completely, happily past it--makes me want to dance a little jig. Yep, a jig.
I don't think she believes that I am over it, though. There is still distance between us, and it pisses me off. She is a great friend, and I was an idiot for being upset for so long. I thought I had fixed it in time--I was able to go to their wedding--but maybe not.
I wish I knew what to do. Maybe the distance is just a natural thing: she is married and busy, and I am single and busy. Relationships change all the time. But what if she doesn't know that I am honestly fine, and she thinks I still can't be around them? Should I tell her? It would be terribly awkward at this point, but I will do whatever it takes. I love that girl, and what is the use of all this wonderful God-given healing if she is still not going to be a part of my life?
I don't think she believes that I am over it, though. There is still distance between us, and it pisses me off. She is a great friend, and I was an idiot for being upset for so long. I thought I had fixed it in time--I was able to go to their wedding--but maybe not.
I wish I knew what to do. Maybe the distance is just a natural thing: she is married and busy, and I am single and busy. Relationships change all the time. But what if she doesn't know that I am honestly fine, and she thinks I still can't be around them? Should I tell her? It would be terribly awkward at this point, but I will do whatever it takes. I love that girl, and what is the use of all this wonderful God-given healing if she is still not going to be a part of my life?
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
vulnerable take 1
Now that I am back on MySpace/Facebook, I don't exactly need this blog. Sure, I can repost the same blogs that I do on the other sites, but I have two followers on here (Hello Beth, Mike) and both of you can read blogs in the other places. The other people who stop in occassionally (Hey Deanna, Sarah) can and probably do read the other blog as well.
So... this might become my frustration forum. I hope you don't mind if I am majorly negative on this blog. I will be happy sometimes, too, but I feel more comfortable venting in this blog than the others. Deal?
To start with, I am having a body image complex. Add this one to my list of insecurities. The worst part is that I haven't had this issue since I was ten and hanging with baby fat. Sure there are times when I am like, "WOAH! love handles!" but typically it is a passing thing and I love my curvy imperfection.
Ever since this summer though.. the issue has become obsessive. The funny thing is, though, that it is only in my head and I do NOTHING about it. That includes all things healthy or unhealthy. I don't exercise, I don't starve myself. I don't eat healthy, I don't binge.
I just wallow. And it is pathetic.
I need to regain my self confidence somehow. Probably by forcing myself to do those healthy things, huh?
Well,I gotta run. Baking cookies.
So... this might become my frustration forum. I hope you don't mind if I am majorly negative on this blog. I will be happy sometimes, too, but I feel more comfortable venting in this blog than the others. Deal?
To start with, I am having a body image complex. Add this one to my list of insecurities. The worst part is that I haven't had this issue since I was ten and hanging with baby fat. Sure there are times when I am like, "WOAH! love handles!" but typically it is a passing thing and I love my curvy imperfection.
Ever since this summer though.. the issue has become obsessive. The funny thing is, though, that it is only in my head and I do NOTHING about it. That includes all things healthy or unhealthy. I don't exercise, I don't starve myself. I don't eat healthy, I don't binge.
I just wallow. And it is pathetic.
I need to regain my self confidence somehow. Probably by forcing myself to do those healthy things, huh?
Well,I gotta run. Baking cookies.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Week's Realizations
1. Though completely lazy Saturdays are glorious, I will regret them by Monday.
2. A sane, healthy person must spend more time asleep than studying at Starbucks.
3. A sane, healthy person will not survive Literary Theory with Dr. Martha Diede.
4. Yes, apparently, we can. :)
5. A cold is never convenient.
6. Just because it's free does not mean you have to eat it.
7. Food Poisoning is not worth the extra sleep. Or the free meal.
8. Waking up at 7 on Saturdays and 6 on Sundays is not conducive to a college lifestyle.
9. Gilmore Girls are more fun than real life.
2. A sane, healthy person must spend more time asleep than studying at Starbucks.
3. A sane, healthy person will not survive Literary Theory with Dr. Martha Diede.
4. Yes, apparently, we can. :)
5. A cold is never convenient.
6. Just because it's free does not mean you have to eat it.
7. Food Poisoning is not worth the extra sleep. Or the free meal.
8. Waking up at 7 on Saturdays and 6 on Sundays is not conducive to a college lifestyle.
9. Gilmore Girls are more fun than real life.
10. Letter themed parties are the best.
11. Chicken is Bomb
12. My little brother is too good for me. I don't deserve such a great friend.
12. Nikolina is the coolest exactly-21-year-old I know. Happy Birthday, my friend!
Saturday, November 8, 2008
the complex.
I am a photography wanna-be. Every time I look at real photographer's work, or even just stand near one of them, it hits me: I don't got it.
I will never have the equipment to make up for what I am lacking: serious talent, an original eye.
All I have is my dumb broken D-80 and some generous friends.
Feeling lame tonight.
R
I will never have the equipment to make up for what I am lacking: serious talent, an original eye.
All I have is my dumb broken D-80 and some generous friends.
Feeling lame tonight.
R
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
chocolate cake.
Do you know what it is like to buy a gigantic piece of triple thick, extra fudgy, chocolatey-chocolate cake from Kahili, to slowly sink your silver fork in, to raise a heaping bite to your lips?
Now, imagine grabbing that whole dripping pile of calories and cramming it, fist after fist, into your pie {scratch that} cake-hole until you are suffocating in the gooey richness. Then, grab a brownie, a couple of cupcakes, and an entire pack of CostCo muffins, and cram it right down your throat. Pour in a gallon or so of syrup (maple, of course) and stick a cherry up your nose. Top with whipped cream.
That is my weekend.
Grabbing a fork.
Now, imagine grabbing that whole dripping pile of calories and cramming it, fist after fist, into your pie {scratch that} cake-hole until you are suffocating in the gooey richness. Then, grab a brownie, a couple of cupcakes, and an entire pack of CostCo muffins, and cram it right down your throat. Pour in a gallon or so of syrup (maple, of course) and stick a cherry up your nose. Top with whipped cream.
That is my weekend.
Grabbing a fork.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Thinking Positively
Midterms are kickin' my hinney.
The newspaper is punchin' me in the gut.
Exhaustion is totaling me over.
So I am going to think positively :)
In the last month I have
Celebrated a friends birthday in wacky capitol hill.
Photographed various friends all over Kirkland.
"Salsa danced" or something like it. :)
Fell in love with Fall all over again!
Watched my editor, Lindsey, do this. :)
Mine is a good life.
The newspaper is punchin' me in the gut.
Exhaustion is totaling me over.
So I am going to think positively :)
In the last month I have
Celebrated a friends birthday in wacky capitol hill.
Photographed various friends all over Kirkland.
"Salsa danced" or something like it. :)
Fell in love with Fall all over again!
Watched my editor, Lindsey, do this. :)
Mine is a good life.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
recipe for recovery
I am in such a silly little funk. I have moments of freedom, but they are rare and almost forced.
What do I need?
To savor this time?
Kirkland
To bear it until the next time?
Thailand
Or just to laugh at myself in the meantime?
tree
Well, I am quite laughable.
Maybe I should start by getting more sleep... Goodnight!
What do I need?
To savor this time?
Kirkland
To bear it until the next time?
Thailand
Or just to laugh at myself in the meantime?
tree
Well, I am quite laughable.
Maybe I should start by getting more sleep... Goodnight!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Talon Time
This is the fourth concept image I have come up with for this next issue of the Talon (look for it next week!). The article is titled "Are We Religious Extremists?" and the assignment I was given was to incorporate the AG faith and politics in some way.. yeah, pretty open for interpretation. Well, after many failed attempts of floating Palin heads and awkward flag waving, I finally accomplished this.
What do you think?
Oh, and we won't be using it. Turns out fifth time is a charm and the image I created after this is better suited to the article.
But this one is still my favorite.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
*not happy*
I wish I could back up about 12 years and join a nunery. Forgoe all of this unnecessary regret.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Quick Comments:
-My tripod broke in half yesterday at a photo shoot. Don't ask. Add this to the list of things I need to replace before I can truly embrace photography again. *grumble* The photo shoot itself helped, though. Such fun!
-I started to fill out my JET (Japan Exchange and Teaching Program) application today. I am afraid. Afraid I won't be accepted, afraid I will be.
-I logged onto MySpace yesterday. *sigh.* I have little will power, and was dying to read a blog or two. I am re-resolving.
-I am addicted to Flickr (http://www.flickr.com/). I adore browsing other photographers' photo streams. So inspiring and humbling. My current fave: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rosie_hardy/
- Derrida destroys my brain.
- Time to study! To Do: prepare French presentation on Switzerland, read The Tragical History of Dr. Faustus, skim various chapters of "Testing for ESL"
p.s. (11:09 p.m.) I just spent.... 4+ hours on a 10 minute french presentation. I am such a power point perfectionist!!
-I started to fill out my JET (Japan Exchange and Teaching Program) application today. I am afraid. Afraid I won't be accepted, afraid I will be.
-I logged onto MySpace yesterday. *sigh.* I have little will power, and was dying to read a blog or two. I am re-resolving.
-I am addicted to Flickr (http://www.flickr.com/). I adore browsing other photographers' photo streams. So inspiring and humbling. My current fave: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rosie_hardy/
- Derrida destroys my brain.
- Time to study! To Do: prepare French presentation on Switzerland, read The Tragical History of Dr. Faustus, skim various chapters of "Testing for ESL"
p.s. (11:09 p.m.) I just spent.... 4+ hours on a 10 minute french presentation. I am such a power point perfectionist!!
Monday, October 13, 2008
pictures
I am having fun with photos again!
1. Wrangler love, 2. Rodeo's End, 3. horse love, 4. wrangler silhouette
Maybe a little bit too much fun... so long productivity!
However, my camera is still frustrating. Damn gears are stripped or something. *grumble*
1. Wrangler love, 2. Rodeo's End, 3. horse love, 4. wrangler silhouette
Maybe a little bit too much fun... so long productivity!
However, my camera is still frustrating. Damn gears are stripped or something. *grumble*
Sunday, October 12, 2008
bloggery bloop.
I am having a horrible time attempting to focus today. This paper is quite pressing, but I can only type a few sentences without completely losing my train of thought. I have officially typed something in every paragraph, but haven't completed a single one. *Sigh*--Sundays.
Last night, we celebrated C's (I feel the need to speak in code now. Partially because it is fun) birthday at M------'s and then C------t. Good food then good (?) karaoke. :P (Can Karaoke be "good"? Perhaps an oxymoron. ) At any rate, we had a good time. C&S, N, B, K, C, and I all kicked back at Mahoney's, then B, K, C, and I met M and J at Crescent and sang it up for a few hours. I was the DD and was therefore given the daunting task of finding parking in Capitol Hill. Not an easy task on a Saturday night. Predictably, we had to walk about a mile in heels (uphill both ways) but at least I only had to pay $5 for parking. Quite a steal.
Highlights of the night:
*laughter in plenty
*C's description of a penal-something-tester. Frighteningly hilarious.
*The KING of all Nachos. Drool.
*A napkin note to B, K, and me: "You three are a scene in a movie. You are beautiful."
*C's rendition of "Respect"
*Strange man to B, me: "You are both so beautiful. Sometimes it sucks to be gay."
*M gracefully kissing/complimenting strangers. She is vibrant.
*C's discovery of the invaluable Black Opal.
*Spice Girls
*Dance Party
*Overnight at C/K's
*Breakfast of bread, green/goat cheese, coffee, and cantaloupe smoothies
I so adore my friends.
I adore blogging, also. Even if poorly and confusingly.
Back to the paper. Later, to dance or not to dance? mmm... dance. :P
Last night, we celebrated C's (I feel the need to speak in code now. Partially because it is fun) birthday at M------'s and then C------t. Good food then good (?) karaoke. :P (Can Karaoke be "good"? Perhaps an oxymoron. ) At any rate, we had a good time. C&S, N, B, K, C, and I all kicked back at Mahoney's, then B, K, C, and I met M and J at Crescent and sang it up for a few hours. I was the DD and was therefore given the daunting task of finding parking in Capitol Hill. Not an easy task on a Saturday night. Predictably, we had to walk about a mile in heels (uphill both ways) but at least I only had to pay $5 for parking. Quite a steal.
Highlights of the night:
*laughter in plenty
*C's description of a penal-something-tester. Frighteningly hilarious.
*The KING of all Nachos. Drool.
*A napkin note to B, K, and me: "You three are a scene in a movie. You are beautiful."
*C's rendition of "Respect"
*Strange man to B, me: "You are both so beautiful. Sometimes it sucks to be gay."
*M gracefully kissing/complimenting strangers. She is vibrant.
*C's discovery of the invaluable Black Opal.
*Spice Girls
*Dance Party
*Overnight at C/K's
*Breakfast of bread, green/goat cheese, coffee, and cantaloupe smoothies
I so adore my friends.
I adore blogging, also. Even if poorly and confusingly.
Back to the paper. Later, to dance or not to dance? mmm... dance. :P
Friday, October 10, 2008
Counting sleep
I meant to blog, because I loved the date and wanted to memorialize it. 10.9.8. Brilliant. Ideally, I would have blogged at exactly 7:06. I would have really enjoyed that.
However, I studied instead, worked, ate, and snuggled with Mags. Then, it was choir rehearsal, and by the time I finished watching "The Usual Suspects" with Tristan, it was 10.10.8. Not nearly as cool.
However, thank you, Sarah, for pointing out the date to me. :) Even though I was unable to properly celebrate with a blog, each time I remembered the numerically pleasing nature of the day, I had to smile.
So, goodnight at.... 12.... 12. 12:12. :) There it is.
However, I studied instead, worked, ate, and snuggled with Mags. Then, it was choir rehearsal, and by the time I finished watching "The Usual Suspects" with Tristan, it was 10.10.8. Not nearly as cool.
However, thank you, Sarah, for pointing out the date to me. :) Even though I was unable to properly celebrate with a blog, each time I remembered the numerically pleasing nature of the day, I had to smile.
So, goodnight at.... 12.... 12. 12:12. :) There it is.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
eh
I am pathetic posting yet ANOTHER blog, but I have no other outlet. I don't know who to call.
My grandpa is dead. I am a wreck. I don't know how to act. I don't know what to do, how to be. I don't know if I would rather be alone, if I would rather go out, if I should sleep, if I should jump in the lake and swim away. I don't know how I am supposed to react, how I want to react.
I hate this. I hate being so far away from home. I hate that I haven't even seen my grandpa in a year, I hate being a complete and utter spazmonger. I want everyone to know I am in pain and to share it, and I want to keep it completely to myself and act like nothing has happened.
Something has happened. I know he is happy now, I know death isn't the end, I know I will see him again someday. But I do.not.care.
Pathetic.
p.s. I am flying home tonight. This will make it easier.
My grandpa is dead. I am a wreck. I don't know how to act. I don't know what to do, how to be. I don't know if I would rather be alone, if I would rather go out, if I should sleep, if I should jump in the lake and swim away. I don't know how I am supposed to react, how I want to react.
I hate this. I hate being so far away from home. I hate that I haven't even seen my grandpa in a year, I hate being a complete and utter spazmonger. I want everyone to know I am in pain and to share it, and I want to keep it completely to myself and act like nothing has happened.
Something has happened. I know he is happy now, I know death isn't the end, I know I will see him again someday. But I do.not.care.
Pathetic.
p.s. I am flying home tonight. This will make it easier.
Grandpa Jesus
Grandpa Jesus "Jesse" Hernandez is hanging out with his namesake tonight. I bet he already broke out his famous salsa, and maybe even the recipe. He rarely shares the recipe, but I figure this is a special occasion. I can see him pop open a fresh jar while Jesus (The First) snags a bag of chips and a deck of cards. Jesse loves to play cards. Grandma Charlene, in all of her Nazarene glory, would rock back in her chair, flowered night gown flowing, and wag and tisk at his sinful ways. She is probably doing the same thing even know, chidding both Jesuses for gamblin' when they could be doin' something useful, for heaven's sake!
Jesse's accent sang a life of hard work and joy. He couldn't always find the right English words, but I understood what he said, even in Spanish. He always let me eat all the fruit I could pick, and the tangy flavor of wild grapes is the crinkles of his eye and his crackled laughter. He taught me how to milk a goat, how to pick a ripe cherry, and which jar of salsa was best for a little girl who thought she could handle the best.
Grandpa Jesse probably misses his billy goats, the obnoxious things. It freaked me out when they followed me around the yard trying to scratch their horns on me, so I stood behind the fence while Grandpa Jesse kneeled down and scratched them on the head, letting them butt against his knees a little. One hand on his back, he would stand then, smile at their bleating, and creak over to the rabbits cages. He loved all his pets, most of them too old and wild for me to care for, and I bet it is hard for him to be gone and not able to look after them. I hope someone else will let the billy goats butt them. I think they really liked that.
The last time I saw him was a month after Grandma Charlene died. We brought some groceries to the house, set the bags next to empty salsa jars, and picked up a pack of playing cards which were scattered across the coffee table. I found him out in the yard, leaning heavily on a cane and staring at his little goats. He made an effort as though to kneel down, and winced sharply. Noticing me behind the gate he smiled, creaked his way over to the rabbits, and sang back to me, "The grapes are good, mi hija. Have some."
Jesse's accent sang a life of hard work and joy. He couldn't always find the right English words, but I understood what he said, even in Spanish. He always let me eat all the fruit I could pick, and the tangy flavor of wild grapes is the crinkles of his eye and his crackled laughter. He taught me how to milk a goat, how to pick a ripe cherry, and which jar of salsa was best for a little girl who thought she could handle the best.
Grandpa Jesse probably misses his billy goats, the obnoxious things. It freaked me out when they followed me around the yard trying to scratch their horns on me, so I stood behind the fence while Grandpa Jesse kneeled down and scratched them on the head, letting them butt against his knees a little. One hand on his back, he would stand then, smile at their bleating, and creak over to the rabbits cages. He loved all his pets, most of them too old and wild for me to care for, and I bet it is hard for him to be gone and not able to look after them. I hope someone else will let the billy goats butt them. I think they really liked that.
The last time I saw him was a month after Grandma Charlene died. We brought some groceries to the house, set the bags next to empty salsa jars, and picked up a pack of playing cards which were scattered across the coffee table. I found him out in the yard, leaning heavily on a cane and staring at his little goats. He made an effort as though to kneel down, and winced sharply. Noticing me behind the gate he smiled, creaked his way over to the rabbits, and sang back to me, "The grapes are good, mi hija. Have some."
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
I Want an R.A.
This is the satire I just wrote for Advanced Expos, mimicking "I Want a Wife" by Judy Brady. I had WAY too much fun writing it. Thinking of you, Beff. :)
I once belonged to that classification of people known as resident assistants. I was An R.A. And, not altogether coincidentally, I was a student.
Not too long ago a female peer of mine appeared on the campus fresh from a community college. She has a single room, which is, of course, in the dorms. She is dependent upon her R.A. As I thought about her while I was studying one afternoon, it suddenly occurred to me that I, too, would like to have an R.A. Why do I want an R.A.?
I would like to go back to the dorms so that I can become socially dependent, refresh myself, and, if need be, progress my love life. I want an R.A. who will strive to support me with school. And while she is going to school I want an R.A. to take care of my problems. I want an R.A. to keep track of school-wide events and sport events. And to plan some of mine, too. I want an R.A. to make sure my friends eat properly and are kept healthy. I want an R.A. who will neutralize the floor’s drama and keep us happy. I want an R.A. who is a good nurturing counselor to my floor-mates, who diagnoses their problems, makes sure they have a brimming social life with the boys, takes them to the waterfront, coffee shops, etc. I want an R.A. who takes care of the floor when we are sad, an R.A. who arranges to be available when my friends need extra time, because, of course, I cannot compromise grades in school. My R.A. must expect to skip classes and work and not lose her mind. It may mean a small decrease in my R.A.’s grades from class to class, but I think she can handle that. Needless to say, my R.A. will arrange and sacrifice for the care of the floor while my R.A. is in school.
I want an R.A. who will take care of my obvious needs. I want an R.A. who will keep my hall clean. An R.A. who will pick up after my friends. I want an R.A. who will submit the maintenance requests, vacuum, decorate, keep the bathrooms clean, and who will see to it that all possible paperwork is printed in her personal file so that I can get what I want without leaving the dorms. I want an R.A. who plans the events, an R.A. who plans fun events. I want an R.A. who will set the date, do the necessary research, make the phone calls, advertise it interestingly, and then understand when I am too busy studying. I want an R.A. who will call the nurse when I am sick and sympathize with my stress and lack of motivation for school. I want an R.A. to stay behind when the school takes a break so that she can continue to plan for me and my friends when we come back and want to hang out.
I want an R.A. who will not interrupt me with incessant lectures about my “community responsibility.” But I want an R.A. who will listen to me when I feel the need to complain about a rather difficult floor-mate I have argued with about her lack of respect. And I want an R.A. who will edit my papers for me when I have finished them.
I want an R.A. who will take care of the events for my social experience. When my friends and I are bored out of sanity, I want an R.A. who takes care of the entertainment details. When I meet boys on the brother floor who I like and want to know, I want an R.A. who will have an event planned, will prepare a delicious snack, give it to me and the boys, and not butt-in when I flirt and make them interested in me and my charm. I want an R.A. who will have arranged that the event is private and off campus out of the way so that security does not bother us. I want an R.A. who takes care of the details of our events so that we have fun, who makes sure that we‘re in a great location, that we are given plenty of time, that we are offered a diverse selection of games, that that our juice boxes are replenished as necessary, that our expenses are taken care of as needed. And I want an R.A. who understands that sometimes I need a weekend away with my boyfriends.
I want an R.A. who is considerate of my romantic life, an R.A. who sets me up regularly and consistently with guys who are worth it, an R.A. who makes sure that I am occupied. And, of course, I want an R.A. who will take care of unwanted attention when I am not interested in them. I want an R.A. who takes on complete responsibility for failed dates, because I do not want low self-esteem. I want an R.A. who will match make for only me so that I do not have to clutter up my romantic life with rivalries. And I want an R.A. who understands that my romantic life may entail more than strict adherence to school policy. I must, after all, be able to interact with men as completely as possible.
If, by chance, I find another floor with a more suitable R.A. than the R.A. I already have, I expect the liberty to reject my present R.A. for another one. Naturally, I will expect an immediate, direct change; my R.A. will take the paperwork and be thoroughly accurate in it so that I can leave easily.
When I am graduated from school and have a career, I want an R.A. to keep in contact and continue to validate me so that my R.A. can endlessly mentor and support me through life’s trials.
My God, who wouldn’t want an R.A.
I once belonged to that classification of people known as resident assistants. I was An R.A. And, not altogether coincidentally, I was a student.
Not too long ago a female peer of mine appeared on the campus fresh from a community college. She has a single room, which is, of course, in the dorms. She is dependent upon her R.A. As I thought about her while I was studying one afternoon, it suddenly occurred to me that I, too, would like to have an R.A. Why do I want an R.A.?
I would like to go back to the dorms so that I can become socially dependent, refresh myself, and, if need be, progress my love life. I want an R.A. who will strive to support me with school. And while she is going to school I want an R.A. to take care of my problems. I want an R.A. to keep track of school-wide events and sport events. And to plan some of mine, too. I want an R.A. to make sure my friends eat properly and are kept healthy. I want an R.A. who will neutralize the floor’s drama and keep us happy. I want an R.A. who is a good nurturing counselor to my floor-mates, who diagnoses their problems, makes sure they have a brimming social life with the boys, takes them to the waterfront, coffee shops, etc. I want an R.A. who takes care of the floor when we are sad, an R.A. who arranges to be available when my friends need extra time, because, of course, I cannot compromise grades in school. My R.A. must expect to skip classes and work and not lose her mind. It may mean a small decrease in my R.A.’s grades from class to class, but I think she can handle that. Needless to say, my R.A. will arrange and sacrifice for the care of the floor while my R.A. is in school.
I want an R.A. who will take care of my obvious needs. I want an R.A. who will keep my hall clean. An R.A. who will pick up after my friends. I want an R.A. who will submit the maintenance requests, vacuum, decorate, keep the bathrooms clean, and who will see to it that all possible paperwork is printed in her personal file so that I can get what I want without leaving the dorms. I want an R.A. who plans the events, an R.A. who plans fun events. I want an R.A. who will set the date, do the necessary research, make the phone calls, advertise it interestingly, and then understand when I am too busy studying. I want an R.A. who will call the nurse when I am sick and sympathize with my stress and lack of motivation for school. I want an R.A. to stay behind when the school takes a break so that she can continue to plan for me and my friends when we come back and want to hang out.
I want an R.A. who will not interrupt me with incessant lectures about my “community responsibility.” But I want an R.A. who will listen to me when I feel the need to complain about a rather difficult floor-mate I have argued with about her lack of respect. And I want an R.A. who will edit my papers for me when I have finished them.
I want an R.A. who will take care of the events for my social experience. When my friends and I are bored out of sanity, I want an R.A. who takes care of the entertainment details. When I meet boys on the brother floor who I like and want to know, I want an R.A. who will have an event planned, will prepare a delicious snack, give it to me and the boys, and not butt-in when I flirt and make them interested in me and my charm. I want an R.A. who will have arranged that the event is private and off campus out of the way so that security does not bother us. I want an R.A. who takes care of the details of our events so that we have fun, who makes sure that we‘re in a great location, that we are given plenty of time, that we are offered a diverse selection of games, that that our juice boxes are replenished as necessary, that our expenses are taken care of as needed. And I want an R.A. who understands that sometimes I need a weekend away with my boyfriends.
I want an R.A. who is considerate of my romantic life, an R.A. who sets me up regularly and consistently with guys who are worth it, an R.A. who makes sure that I am occupied. And, of course, I want an R.A. who will take care of unwanted attention when I am not interested in them. I want an R.A. who takes on complete responsibility for failed dates, because I do not want low self-esteem. I want an R.A. who will match make for only me so that I do not have to clutter up my romantic life with rivalries. And I want an R.A. who understands that my romantic life may entail more than strict adherence to school policy. I must, after all, be able to interact with men as completely as possible.
If, by chance, I find another floor with a more suitable R.A. than the R.A. I already have, I expect the liberty to reject my present R.A. for another one. Naturally, I will expect an immediate, direct change; my R.A. will take the paperwork and be thoroughly accurate in it so that I can leave easily.
When I am graduated from school and have a career, I want an R.A. to keep in contact and continue to validate me so that my R.A. can endlessly mentor and support me through life’s trials.
My God, who wouldn’t want an R.A.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
A Fresh Start
I am putting my facebook and myspace accounts to sleep for awhile. I don't know if anyone will read this, but I need a place to type my thoughts and such. So here I go!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
