I breathe in the pauses, and I live in the flurry of activity from moment to moment.
I turned in the last paperwork that I'll ever turn in for tutoring at ESF. This is depressing to me, and I'm not sure why it's hitting me in that particular way. I mean, let's be honest. I spent a good portion of my undergraduate career forgetting to turn in my paperwork.
Today I am feeling more calm than I have in a while. I think it's because I have managed to pull my head up out of the sand, and the view up here is not as bad as I'd feared. After all, I'm taking the necessary actions, and my life is going to end up working out.
It's nice to feel like my life is going to work out.
Pretty soon here I am going to eat lunch, and then I am going to do some tutoring. The plan is to sit around and work on the bits and pieces of things that need work, and then at 8:00 I'm going to go to DJ's concert because I've skipped most of his concerts.
I felt particularly bad about this when I went to his sax ensemble concert a few weeks ago (was it a few weeks? I've lost all concept of time...). I sat in the sparse audience and felt really sad about the way the they perform even for a mostly empty auditorium. And this is just depressing to me.
I mean, it's a free concert, and the music is done just beautifully, and DJ's professor works so hard at it and I feel like no one can be bothered to appreciate it. And after the concert, DJ seemed like he was really pleased that I'd gone.
And that was really sort of convicting to me. Because I've been skipping his concerts for two years, and he really does like it when I show up to hear what he's done. Sometimes I forget that he's my little brother and he actually does care what I think sometimes, and I'm always so proud of him when I go to these things.
It just sort of makes me want to cry, the ensembles playing for the empty auditorium, because it's such a picture of what's happening everywhere, you know? In society and everything and it sort of leaves me with this hopeless feeling. Since our symphony shut down and everything, I guess I'm more aware of the way the arts are collapsing to less admirable pastimes.
Ugh. Depressing.
So to lighten the mood I shall tell you a story. It is the story of how I came to discover that DJ has a concert tonight.
Scene: as I bend (in my pajamas, mind you) to pick my previously worn clothes off of the floor, I catch a whiff of something that smells oddly reminiscent of high school. Crinkling my nose, I straighten and open the bathroom door.
There stands DJ, black item of clothing in hand. At first I think it’s his leather jacket, but I slowly realize that it is his tux jacket. In the other hand, he has a canister of Axe (ah, the good old days of high school).
He looks at me mournfully and lifts the can. “This smells so bad,” he says, lifting his hand to signify that he is talking about the jacket. “I know this isn’t going to help. But I’m a boy. And I don’t know what else to do.”
At this point, a quiet laugh erupts from me as he sprays Axe onto the jacket - and then I practically see the lightbulb go on over his head.
“Is there Febreeze in that closet?” he asks, and I move so he can look. Sure enough, he finds a can of Febreeze, drops the Axe, and begins dousing the suit jacket in Febreeze.
"DJ," I say, "You are going to reek of Febreeze tomorrow!"
“At least it doesn’t smell like BO anymore.”
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Saturday, April 23, 2011
someone like you
This song is gorgeous. I'm on an Adele kick.
Unfortunately it also sort of makes me want to cry!
Thursday, April 21, 2011
don't forget me -- I beg
Odd that my posts here tend to be negative.
They also tend to be few and far between.
It's interesting to see how my time falls away into the little cracks of my life. I've been enjoying my time here, that's for sure, but I whittle away at it to wake up one day and find that I have less than two weeks of classes left. Ever, as an undergrad. Ever, at ESF. Ever, here in this little world I've carved out for myself.
And honestly? The very thought terrifies me.
I thought I was past this, you know? The silly tears as I watch myself in the mirror, hugging my sweatpants-clad knees to my hoodie-clad chest. The blotches and the puffiness and the way my swollen eyelids don't quite fit together the way that they did before I cried. The way the edges feel somehow mismatched, chafed, and raw.
And the way that lately, I can't stop.
It comes in waves, the terror and the pseudo-nausea and the sobbing.
I've had a lot to worry about. Applications and then visits - there wasn't nearly enough time between submission of applications and acceptances - and then the gut-wrenching decision. And I sent that email, clicked that 'send' button and felt horribly guilty instead of relieved, and I didn't feel much until my eyes were overflowing.
And I finally accepted, and I sent some emails, and I received some responses, and some days it seems like things are working perfectly except for me, like everything in my life is a well-oiled, sleek, precise gear except for me, and I have some edges that slip and stick and some serious inertia problems.
And then there was paperwork and the details that we called minor because I had to cross the mountain of that decision before I could face them, but from this side of the mountain they don't seem so minor.
Well anyway, the thought of leaving is something that, even as I write about it right now, I do not want to face. I have to distance myself from the thought. I hate leaving. I hate starting over. I hate change. And I am just praying that the first couple of weeks of graduate school don't see me sobbing over my lonely meals every night.
Enough of that, I suppose.
I'm just trying to stave off some of the crying for now. Baby steps.
They also tend to be few and far between.
It's interesting to see how my time falls away into the little cracks of my life. I've been enjoying my time here, that's for sure, but I whittle away at it to wake up one day and find that I have less than two weeks of classes left. Ever, as an undergrad. Ever, at ESF. Ever, here in this little world I've carved out for myself.
And honestly? The very thought terrifies me.
I thought I was past this, you know? The silly tears as I watch myself in the mirror, hugging my sweatpants-clad knees to my hoodie-clad chest. The blotches and the puffiness and the way my swollen eyelids don't quite fit together the way that they did before I cried. The way the edges feel somehow mismatched, chafed, and raw.
And the way that lately, I can't stop.
It comes in waves, the terror and the pseudo-nausea and the sobbing.
I've had a lot to worry about. Applications and then visits - there wasn't nearly enough time between submission of applications and acceptances - and then the gut-wrenching decision. And I sent that email, clicked that 'send' button and felt horribly guilty instead of relieved, and I didn't feel much until my eyes were overflowing.
And I finally accepted, and I sent some emails, and I received some responses, and some days it seems like things are working perfectly except for me, like everything in my life is a well-oiled, sleek, precise gear except for me, and I have some edges that slip and stick and some serious inertia problems.
And then there was paperwork and the details that we called minor because I had to cross the mountain of that decision before I could face them, but from this side of the mountain they don't seem so minor.
Well anyway, the thought of leaving is something that, even as I write about it right now, I do not want to face. I have to distance myself from the thought. I hate leaving. I hate starting over. I hate change. And I am just praying that the first couple of weeks of graduate school don't see me sobbing over my lonely meals every night.
Enough of that, I suppose.
I'm just trying to stave off some of the crying for now. Baby steps.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
melancholy babes
Every once in a while I think to myself, what is the best way to get a message across without being necessarily obvious about getting a message across? You see, not only am I nonconfrontational, but I also do not want to open certain doors - having already shut them. There's something about a door that I have had the satisfaction of slamming shut. I just do not want to open it.
Now occasionally I will find myself in a very black mood. The blackest of black. You know, the proverbial stormclouds are gathering - "what's wrong with 'the stormclouds are gathering?'" ... oh, Sports Night, you make me smile - and every once in a while everything in my mind just absolutely explodes into little tiny pieces.
And the only piece that I can retain is the piece that pokes me and says 'hey, you like this song that just came on, but instead of singing to it, you are sitting here with your face pinched into an exhausting scowl! why is that, my dear?'
So suddenly I recall that I am angry. White-hot, driven-to-distraction angry. Except, you understand, the anger is the distraction - the only thing I can focus on. And I shut right down. Because let's face it. This was something worth being angry about, for myriad reasons, none of which are worth discussing.
Nevertheless, most of the anger has passed with a good night's sleep and some hydration and I begin to feel myself again.
I need to stop putting my bare hands into the base bath (and spilling hexanes, ether, acetone, etc. on them) because all of my fingers and my palm and my knuckles are flaking and peeling, which doesn't hurt but does feel gross when they brush against each other as fingers on a hand are wont to do.
What else, what else, what else. I'm flying to Baltimore on Friday - going to see Johns Hopkins, gonna see if I fit and if they want me and how I like it. Adam's at Universal this week, so lab is quiet (and clean!), and he's bringing me back something. Probably a hoodie, he says. Eeeee! I do love hoodies.
Okay my hands are driving me nuts. Good thing I have the lotion from that hotel in Hanover here in lab.
I am irritated still, though. And not just dry-skin-on-my-hands irritated. Legitimately irritated, because sometimes things do not work out the way they seem like they ought to work (hello, CLAISEN, could you hurry up and REARRANGE please?), and often situations change so as to be completely unreadable.
Ah, life.
I am trying my very best to say something here, but it is all encrypted because, after all, this is a public forum. That's probably for the best.
Apparently Jon has a concert tonight. I did not know about this until Emily Casey texted me this morning to ask if I was going. This is par for the course. Okay I gotta go stare at my reaction for a few more minutes.
As far as this entry goes, I would have to give it an F. I will try to think of an engaging story for next time.
I still can't believe it's March.
Now occasionally I will find myself in a very black mood. The blackest of black. You know, the proverbial stormclouds are gathering - "what's wrong with 'the stormclouds are gathering?'" ... oh, Sports Night, you make me smile - and every once in a while everything in my mind just absolutely explodes into little tiny pieces.
And the only piece that I can retain is the piece that pokes me and says 'hey, you like this song that just came on, but instead of singing to it, you are sitting here with your face pinched into an exhausting scowl! why is that, my dear?'
So suddenly I recall that I am angry. White-hot, driven-to-distraction angry. Except, you understand, the anger is the distraction - the only thing I can focus on. And I shut right down. Because let's face it. This was something worth being angry about, for myriad reasons, none of which are worth discussing.
Nevertheless, most of the anger has passed with a good night's sleep and some hydration and I begin to feel myself again.
I need to stop putting my bare hands into the base bath (and spilling hexanes, ether, acetone, etc. on them) because all of my fingers and my palm and my knuckles are flaking and peeling, which doesn't hurt but does feel gross when they brush against each other as fingers on a hand are wont to do.
What else, what else, what else. I'm flying to Baltimore on Friday - going to see Johns Hopkins, gonna see if I fit and if they want me and how I like it. Adam's at Universal this week, so lab is quiet (and clean!), and he's bringing me back something. Probably a hoodie, he says. Eeeee! I do love hoodies.
Okay my hands are driving me nuts. Good thing I have the lotion from that hotel in Hanover here in lab.
I am irritated still, though. And not just dry-skin-on-my-hands irritated. Legitimately irritated, because sometimes things do not work out the way they seem like they ought to work (hello, CLAISEN, could you hurry up and REARRANGE please?), and often situations change so as to be completely unreadable.
Ah, life.
I am trying my very best to say something here, but it is all encrypted because, after all, this is a public forum. That's probably for the best.
Apparently Jon has a concert tonight. I did not know about this until Emily Casey texted me this morning to ask if I was going. This is par for the course. Okay I gotta go stare at my reaction for a few more minutes.
As far as this entry goes, I would have to give it an F. I will try to think of an engaging story for next time.
I still can't believe it's March.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Thoughts on 2011
Oh, hey, 2011. It's been 2011 for a while now. 2011 is sort of noncommittal. It sits at my elbow and impassively watches as I move from here to there to back over here, checking things off of my to-do list. As I make little everyday decisions.
2011 seems not to care much what happens. 2007 cared very much, I think. 2011 figures it'll let the cards fall where they may, and it's an odd feeling to me. I don't know that I've moved past dreading the passage of time, but I certainly feel better about it than I did four years ago.
I suppose that's a step in the right direction.
Breaks feel like stasis to me. Nothing's happening. Life isn't moving. Time is barely passing. The only time I feel aware of the its passage is late, late, late at night when I'm having trouble getting myself to settle and go to bed. When I glance at the clock and I think of how it's no longer today, but it's now tomorrow, and it'll never be today again. Never.
It's unsettling, and of course, this makes it more difficult to go to bed. Somehow I manage, though, so I suppose that's all right. I've had more trouble getting up in the mornings lately - I imagine that's because I've actually HAD to get up in the mornings rather than sleep until I wake naturally. I've sort of given up on it. I get to school later -- instead of arriving between 9 and 9:30, I arrive between 9:30 and 10.
It's nice to be at school. Comfortable. I'm going to have to adopt a new place soon enough, and I'll have to give this one up. I still remember the alien feeling I had when, the week before graduation, we had to stop by the high school to pick something up. And I didn't even go in. I just stood at the Fine Arts door and looked in, down that long hallway.
I saw the flecked floor that I'd walked every day for four years. I saw the fluorescent lights reflected as rectangles in that floor, and I saw the classroom doors, the hallways, the murals, the corner beyond which it opens into the lobby, flooded with light from outside. And when I stood there looking in, before I'd even graduated, I felt disconnected. This place that I'd loved for at the very least that last year was not mine anymore.
I wonder if ESF will feel like that to me after I graduate. Like it's not mine. Like I don't belong anymore. It's disorienting.
I finally remembered to bring the Sara CD that Hemler bought me back into the car. Little Voice. I popped it in today, because I've learned all of the words to Kaleidoscope Heart - have known them for a while now - and I still remembered all of the words to it. I've been listening straight through CDs lately, not skipping to my favorites. I like that when one song ends, I can hear the opening notes of the next in my head before they come on, and I know the order.
So, even though typically I would skip One Sweet Love, because it's not my favorite, I listened to it. And this CD is reminding me that she is really an amazing lyricist. Not that her lyrics to Kaleidoscope Heart aren't amazing - they are - but I'm remembering. The thing about Sara is that typically she seems to take a rather pessimistic stance on love (when she's taking one at all), so I don't have to feel disconnected from the song.
Oh. Hahahaha that makes me sound like an extreme pessimist! It's just that I understand the pessimistic side, and I haven't known the optimistic side yet. Someday.
I ought to get back to run that column. It's very cold at school today. I wish I'd worn a long-sleeved shirt underneath my hoodie instead of a t-shirt. Oh well. At least I opted out of a tank.
2011 seems not to care much what happens. 2007 cared very much, I think. 2011 figures it'll let the cards fall where they may, and it's an odd feeling to me. I don't know that I've moved past dreading the passage of time, but I certainly feel better about it than I did four years ago.
I suppose that's a step in the right direction.
Breaks feel like stasis to me. Nothing's happening. Life isn't moving. Time is barely passing. The only time I feel aware of the its passage is late, late, late at night when I'm having trouble getting myself to settle and go to bed. When I glance at the clock and I think of how it's no longer today, but it's now tomorrow, and it'll never be today again. Never.
It's unsettling, and of course, this makes it more difficult to go to bed. Somehow I manage, though, so I suppose that's all right. I've had more trouble getting up in the mornings lately - I imagine that's because I've actually HAD to get up in the mornings rather than sleep until I wake naturally. I've sort of given up on it. I get to school later -- instead of arriving between 9 and 9:30, I arrive between 9:30 and 10.
It's nice to be at school. Comfortable. I'm going to have to adopt a new place soon enough, and I'll have to give this one up. I still remember the alien feeling I had when, the week before graduation, we had to stop by the high school to pick something up. And I didn't even go in. I just stood at the Fine Arts door and looked in, down that long hallway.
I saw the flecked floor that I'd walked every day for four years. I saw the fluorescent lights reflected as rectangles in that floor, and I saw the classroom doors, the hallways, the murals, the corner beyond which it opens into the lobby, flooded with light from outside. And when I stood there looking in, before I'd even graduated, I felt disconnected. This place that I'd loved for at the very least that last year was not mine anymore.
I wonder if ESF will feel like that to me after I graduate. Like it's not mine. Like I don't belong anymore. It's disorienting.
I finally remembered to bring the Sara CD that Hemler bought me back into the car. Little Voice. I popped it in today, because I've learned all of the words to Kaleidoscope Heart - have known them for a while now - and I still remembered all of the words to it. I've been listening straight through CDs lately, not skipping to my favorites. I like that when one song ends, I can hear the opening notes of the next in my head before they come on, and I know the order.
So, even though typically I would skip One Sweet Love, because it's not my favorite, I listened to it. And this CD is reminding me that she is really an amazing lyricist. Not that her lyrics to Kaleidoscope Heart aren't amazing - they are - but I'm remembering. The thing about Sara is that typically she seems to take a rather pessimistic stance on love (when she's taking one at all), so I don't have to feel disconnected from the song.
Oh. Hahahaha that makes me sound like an extreme pessimist! It's just that I understand the pessimistic side, and I haven't known the optimistic side yet. Someday.
I ought to get back to run that column. It's very cold at school today. I wish I'd worn a long-sleeved shirt underneath my hoodie instead of a t-shirt. Oh well. At least I opted out of a tank.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
2010 feels old and worn in. Comfortable.
I can remember New Years where I have moved around slowly, getting used to the feel and the taste of the new year, because it actually is different. There's something palpable about the new year - the fresh slate, the filed past, and the vast expanse of 365 days between now and the next benchmark.
New Year's Eve is easily my least favorite holiday. I believe I was saying something to that effect this morning. I don't mind hanging out with some people on New Year's Eve. I really don't. It's nice to be with people you love. But at the end of the day (literally), when that giant disco ball comes to rest on the four numbers that will define the next year, I don't want to be with anyone but family.
I like the way my family does New Year's Eve. We never have parties and rarely go to parties and at the parties we do attend, we leave before midnight. We usually make something up - dip for chips, occasionally those mini hot dogs (which, ick?), maybe leftover Christmas cookies.
We sit on the couch around 11:55 and flip between the channels covering Times Square, because Ryan Seacrest is lame and the performers are less than stellar, and we watch, without much excitement, the demise of that ball. We watch the confetti, we watch all of the people wildly kissing, and we look at each other and confirm that we are all thankful that we are not, in fact, at Times Square, and we reaffirm that we do not, in fact, ever want to be at Times Square on New Year's Eve.
Then we have some sparkling grape juice or whatever Wegmans had, we have it in the crystal goblets - is goblet quite the right term? They're not wineglasses, they're not the right shape, but they have stems and everything - and everyone clinks glasses with everyone else and drinks.
Then we go to bed. There is no real celebration, just an acknowledgment that yes, more time has passed, and yes, we're aware of it. It sort of makes me feel for all those other midnights that we don't pay any attention to... Christmas night, for instance, when the holiday is officially over but no one bothers to notice. Or Christmas Eve and its seamless transition into Christmas.
Most of all, though, imminent change, which comes with passing time, is not my favorite and I have never loved the holiday dedicated to passing time. Why wish it away? I'm 21 years old. I'm not in a hurry to be any older.
I have now made hummus twice. It's not really bona fide hummus, but it tastes like summer to me (I know, I know, why make it in the winter then? Well, I'll tell you - hummus always appeals to me), probably because of the copious lemon we use. The first time, I was zesting the lemon and managed to zest my left pinky.
I think of it every time I brush a finger over the divot in my fingernail. I yelped and took a look at it immediately, while Mom said, "don't get any blood in the hummus" quite calmly. There wasn't much blood, and I did make sure that none of my skin was in the hummus either, but I suppose I can't make that promise about my fingernail. A little keratin never hurt anyone, I guess.
Been catching up on television. Sports Night is excellent - it's so good! - but I am tired of Dana's heart being constantly broken. I just don't understand! I thought I might try to finish up Lost before the end of break, just to have those loose ends tied up. Even though I'm not really that invested, for some reason I cannot bring myself to read about the completion of the series (and Wikipedia has tempted. It tempts! It tempts!).
Watched Inception last night - Jon wanted it, and Laura bought it for him for Christmas. Just watched Despicable Me, and it was just as adorable as I'd heard. Plus the giggling of the minions was certainly contagious.
Mmm-mmm. I feel like I had more to say, but it turns out I don't, so I guess I'm out.
I can remember New Years where I have moved around slowly, getting used to the feel and the taste of the new year, because it actually is different. There's something palpable about the new year - the fresh slate, the filed past, and the vast expanse of 365 days between now and the next benchmark.
New Year's Eve is easily my least favorite holiday. I believe I was saying something to that effect this morning. I don't mind hanging out with some people on New Year's Eve. I really don't. It's nice to be with people you love. But at the end of the day (literally), when that giant disco ball comes to rest on the four numbers that will define the next year, I don't want to be with anyone but family.
I like the way my family does New Year's Eve. We never have parties and rarely go to parties and at the parties we do attend, we leave before midnight. We usually make something up - dip for chips, occasionally those mini hot dogs (which, ick?), maybe leftover Christmas cookies.
We sit on the couch around 11:55 and flip between the channels covering Times Square, because Ryan Seacrest is lame and the performers are less than stellar, and we watch, without much excitement, the demise of that ball. We watch the confetti, we watch all of the people wildly kissing, and we look at each other and confirm that we are all thankful that we are not, in fact, at Times Square, and we reaffirm that we do not, in fact, ever want to be at Times Square on New Year's Eve.
Then we have some sparkling grape juice or whatever Wegmans had, we have it in the crystal goblets - is goblet quite the right term? They're not wineglasses, they're not the right shape, but they have stems and everything - and everyone clinks glasses with everyone else and drinks.
Then we go to bed. There is no real celebration, just an acknowledgment that yes, more time has passed, and yes, we're aware of it. It sort of makes me feel for all those other midnights that we don't pay any attention to... Christmas night, for instance, when the holiday is officially over but no one bothers to notice. Or Christmas Eve and its seamless transition into Christmas.
Most of all, though, imminent change, which comes with passing time, is not my favorite and I have never loved the holiday dedicated to passing time. Why wish it away? I'm 21 years old. I'm not in a hurry to be any older.
I have now made hummus twice. It's not really bona fide hummus, but it tastes like summer to me (I know, I know, why make it in the winter then? Well, I'll tell you - hummus always appeals to me), probably because of the copious lemon we use. The first time, I was zesting the lemon and managed to zest my left pinky.
I think of it every time I brush a finger over the divot in my fingernail. I yelped and took a look at it immediately, while Mom said, "don't get any blood in the hummus" quite calmly. There wasn't much blood, and I did make sure that none of my skin was in the hummus either, but I suppose I can't make that promise about my fingernail. A little keratin never hurt anyone, I guess.
Been catching up on television. Sports Night is excellent - it's so good! - but I am tired of Dana's heart being constantly broken. I just don't understand! I thought I might try to finish up Lost before the end of break, just to have those loose ends tied up. Even though I'm not really that invested, for some reason I cannot bring myself to read about the completion of the series (and Wikipedia has tempted. It tempts! It tempts!).
Watched Inception last night - Jon wanted it, and Laura bought it for him for Christmas. Just watched Despicable Me, and it was just as adorable as I'd heard. Plus the giggling of the minions was certainly contagious.
Mmm-mmm. I feel like I had more to say, but it turns out I don't, so I guess I'm out.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Okay okay okay I cannot resist.
Soundtrack of the next couple of days:
+ the song from the last entry (somewhat colloquially known as We Are Young)
+ Start Me Up
+ Be Good to Yourself
I am officially done with the semester!! I am going in on Monday to hand in my take-home exam and probably to start organizing Dave's life for him, or at least to fill out the paperwork so that I can be paid for organizing Dave's life for him. And the rest of the time?
SPORTS NIGHT. I AM SO EXCITED YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I love Felicity Huffman.
The end.
Soundtrack of the next couple of days:
+ the song from the last entry (somewhat colloquially known as We Are Young)
+ Start Me Up
+ Be Good to Yourself
I am officially done with the semester!! I am going in on Monday to hand in my take-home exam and probably to start organizing Dave's life for him, or at least to fill out the paperwork so that I can be paid for organizing Dave's life for him. And the rest of the time?
SPORTS NIGHT. I AM SO EXCITED YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I love Felicity Huffman.
The end.
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