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
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