DEATH

With the death of Charlie Purpura, one of the teachers in my department I've been put through a loop, philosophically. I've never approached death from this angle before, not to say that I've never known anyone who has died, because I have, but before it was always from being the one who dies. I looked at death very personally and it never really meant that much before. I mean, when a person dies what do they know? They aren't alive anymore and this world doesn't matter. On that front, I never really considered a concept of the afterlife that I believe in. I had learned of different widely accepted versions - christian, greek, norse - but I never picked one I truely believed. With the acceptance of the celtic traditions, I formed a personal version of the afterlife, that I don't want to explain right now.
Now, facing the death of Charlie Purpura and watching the people around me who knew him brave his passing, I'm forced to look at death differently and its frightening. What is left of a person when they die? Usually their body, but is that still the person? Couldn't that body be anyone? Just another stranger. But its not, its the limp flesh of someone you once knew. You have memories of the body. You can hear a voice and see their eyes and some can even feel their touch, but now its just a corpse. Its not the person you remember. That body is not the person. What do people leave behind when they die? Photographs, clothing, dirty dishes, an unmade bed maybe a wife and a son. But those things that remain are not that person. The person isn't their anymore. They are gone. In an attempt to keep that person by their side friends will put flowers on a table by the dead man's office. By the flowers are sad. They are trying to replace a person. Flowers can not be a person. Flowers do not speak, they do not have eyes, they can not take your hand or make you laugh. They are just flowers. They just sit in their vase and remind you that a person used to be there. A person that was whole. The flowers are empty.
Then you wonder if that person was really there. Is there anyway of knowing? The person is just a memory. Maybe a memory of a time they made you laugh or something they said that seemed so true at the time or maybe just foot steps interrupting your reading. That's all I remember of Charlie. His footsteps and how I would look up as his rubber soles hit the creaking floor. His footsteps were almost comforting. They were always their to interrupt my reading. But I don't remember anything else. He never made me laugh, he never took my hand. I don't even have proof he really existed, except through other people's memories. I could have made him up, heard his foot steps in his head and it would have all been the same to me. I know we was real once, because their are flowers outside his door now. But the flowers are not him.
It makes you wonder if it matters. Why we struggle through life and why we keep going. In the end the only thing left is flowers and maybe a photo. Then the flowers will whither and die and the photo will fade and be lost. So, does it matter? When I am dead will any one care? Flowers will be put up somewhere to replace the living breathing me and then my body will be put in a whole and a small stone will say my name and when I lived. But why? I don't want to be remembered on a stone and when I am no longer my body I don't want it to take up space any more. Just toss it away. Let it feed new flowers. Because in the end that's all that's left. Flowers. Flowers that wilt and die themselves.
Why do we struggle to be remembered? Charlie will be remembered by the few that knew him. they will be remember as a laugh and a truthful word, or even in his silence. Then after that he will be remembered in a list.
Charlie Purpura:
born_____
died______
married to ______
children________
won two emmy's
worked at NYU
That will be all that is left of a man. A few words. Barely enough for a paragraph. But he was a writer, someone will say. And yes, he was a writer. More simply "he was". Charlie has left behind the shows he wrote, but they are not him. They are a product of him, like his son, his photos and his body. Its the person that was important. The one part you can't keep. The part that in the end is replaced by flowers.

What is wrong with the weather. It was about 55 degrees yesterday and now it is snowing. Why is it snowing?

This is kind of rediculous, I'm exhausted, its about one in the morning and I can't sleep. I have no idea why. I'm not worried about anything and I don't have anything really on my mind. I just can't fall asleep. Its nights like this that I never understand. I should be tired because I've been up all day and I was up all yesterday, but for some odd reason I can't sleep. I feel tired in my eyes, but my brain doesn't feel tired and my body doesn't feel to tired, but I know I should be asleep because I'll regret it in the morning. If I didn't have this foreknowledge of the regret I will feel, I would try to write some of the play I'm working on, but I know that if I start now I'll be up all night and I ought to be asleep. That's the present dilemna. Its not very interesting I know, but I do have an Italian midterm tomorrow and its always better to take a test after sleep, especially in a foreign language. Also, that way I'll be rested enough to know if I lapse into french. Which would be bad. I'm pretty sure any answers in french or spanish on my italian midterm would be marked wrong. On that note, I'm seriously considering a minor or double major in romance languages or linguistics, I'm just going to have to find out what that actually means class-wise. I think a linguistic's minor, although probably useless in the real world, would be really helpful to my writing and ultimately everything is about making my writing better. Speaking of writing.
Charlie Purpura, a professor in my department died over spring break. Its really sad because he affected so many people in my department. I personally didn't know him, but I do recall him stalking around the floor as I sat and read a few times. Its going to affect a lot of peeple I know, especially the other professors. Its going to be a quiet week on the seventh floor.
On a happier note. Monday, which by now is yesterday, was Ostara
OSTARA
The celebration of the vernal equinox. I found out today that at the exact moment of the equinox when everything is exactly balanced a raw egg can be placed with the wider part down and it will stand up by itself. I haven't tried this, but it does make sense because at the moment of equinox the entire universe is at balance. The egg symbol plays an important part in the christian version of Ostara, known as Easter. Eggs are traditionally hidden for children to find and the plastic ones are often filled with chocolate. As most christian holidays this has roots in Celtic traditions and as most Celtic celebrations, this is related to rebirth and fertility. Eggs are an obvious symbol of fertility and by giving them as gifts, the wish for a prosperious year ahead is endowed on the receiver. However, the prosperity does not have to be of a reproductive nature. The festival of Ostara is also linked with the teutonic (dual) goddess Oestre or Eastre. She is the goddess of spring and the dawn, similar to the greek goddess Aurora, but cooler. Oestre's name, or Eastre, gives root to the words "east" (where the sun rises) and a word that relates to female reproduction, which has slipped my mind. The rabbit symbol is also rooted in celtic tradition. They symbolize the emergence of animals from hibernation and, I'm sure, their imfamously rapid rate of reproduction.
Faeries are a large part of modern celtic tradition and I have a few theories about their role in ancient traditions. For many celtic festivals food is left for the faeires. On Ostara, the food is along the lines of sweets, often honey and nector. This is the root of putting candy, or more often chocolate, in the plastic eggs that christians hide around their gardens. Its rather silly, but it does get them outside and into nature, where the equinox should be celebrated, but they never have the right day. Silly christians, following men for the answers to life.

So, yes, all celtic festivals are about sex, but what isn't?

Anyway, Happy Ostara.

I promise I'll give you an actual update when things calm down. But those non-calm things are really good and everything goes well. I'll say more later, when classes start again and I can fall back into a routine.

Saint Patrick's Day

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!!!
Although St. Patty's day celebrates the Irish and Irish heritage, it is a celebration of Christian Ireland and the the defeat of paganism.
Patrick was originally a slave in Ireland and escaped to continental Europe, where he studied and became a priest. He then claims that the christian god called him and told him to christianize Ireland. He did preserve the tribal government system and is said to have recorded a lot of the ancient, what we now call myths, although he did christianize them a lot. The King Arthur Legend is one of those myths. St. Patrick is said to have added the whole part about the search for the grail and Morgan Le Fey, being an evil soreress.
However, there is nothing wrong with celebrating the Irish. So go for it, but please be safe.

I also got a job at Barnes and Noble today. I train on saturday and start on sunday. I'm very excited. I have officially joined the work force and will have to pay taxes next year. Yuck!

Current crisis: loss of student housing for next year.
Apparently, my father didn't pay the housing deposit. There are very few things I ask of my parents, but this is one of them. And its not like I didn't remind him. I'm very frusterated at the moment. Gr!!! Vacation was going to well, too. My biggest concern was having money for food, which was very concerning and the second was wonder what dorms were on my group housing list. Silly me, now I have to wonder WHERE in all of NEW YORK FUCKING CITY I' going to live. I am going to apply for waitlist housing, but really what's the point. I probably wont get it until after I have an appartment. Gr!!! So, this is the evil twist of fate. I was wondering what it was going to be. Things had been going too well. My life never functions like that.

No more MIA

I've been MIA for a few days and although I couldn't post, it was sooooo worth it. I basically spent three days straight with my boyfriend (that still sounds foriegn). We met friday night for dinner and we wandered around the West Village for a while looking for a place, because he was going to take me to some Italian place, but I just wanted something light, because I had been violently ill the day before and wanted to take it easy. We found this little place that seemed cute, but they were kind of snoty to us. It was very off putting, but we had a good time, despite. Then we rented Matchstick Men. It was pretty good. Decent. It was decent. There was a question that haunted me to the end, but it was answered in a twisty kind of way. I wont gve anything away, in case you care to see it, and if you've seen it, what I was questioning isn't hard to guess. Then the next day (sunday) we saw Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? with Kathleen Turner and Bill Erwin. It was acted very well and I really enjoy the writing. It gives you a lot to think about in each moment. Then we had dinner up by Times Square and then talked for awhile. I went home and slept. Then we went out to Coney Island today, well, technically yesterday, so we'll say monday. We went to Coney Island on Monday with Scurvyseawench and then dinner and dessert. Then Scurvyseawench and I met a friend of her's from her highschool and we saw Robots, which is an animated movie and its really cute. And now, after an exhausting non-stop three days, I'm going to sleep in my comfy bed forever. Good night. Happy trails. I also bought a rhyming dictionary, so watch out rhyming possibly ahead.

Well, I think I only had a 24 hour bug, because I feel really a lot better now. I dislike being sick and I'm glad I feel better, but I know I'm still going to be recovering for a few more days.
I also have an interview later today with Barnes and Noble. I'm so excited. I really hope I get this job. I really need it. Although I'm sure it will be less posting time, but I think its a fair trade. Well, I'll keep you updated.

I hate being sick. No, I hate being violently ill. Being sick just sucks. Being violently ill is horrible. I'm glad I'm feeling better now.

Beauty

You know that feeling that when your in an embrace with someone you care a lot about and even though they are right there, as close as they'll ever be, they feel so far away and you just want to hold tighter and never let go, because if you let go then they will be gone. I think that is one of the most beautiful, subtle emotions. Its the essence of .

Re-reading what I posted yesterday, I somehow feel it misses the mark of the now long vanished post. I think the emotions in this version are more removed. I was so in the moment for the first time in the other one, I actually started to cry. This version feels like I've already been through the emotions and have moved on, that they don't carry with the words the way they did before. Anyway, I really ought to stop remenicing. It will forever be "the lost post" and there isn't anything I can do about it. So moving on.
I get to see the Wooster Group thursday night, which is really just much, much later today, because its already Thursday morning. Its funny how I used to think that staying up to midnight was such a big deal. I don't think I've gone to bed before midnight for at least the last month. Anyway, speaking of sleep. I should get some right now.

Now or Never

Okay, right now is the time to get that story that disappeared out of my system. Its basically blizzarding outside and the windows are fogged over, so I’m basically trapped in my room. My roommate is here, but that’s alright. We’re going to go see ROBOTS together later. It’s an animated movie.

SISTER – the unabridged edition
My sister and I have had a very interesting relationship from the very beginning, in fact right from her birth. Her birthday is one of my very first clear memories. I was two and a half when she was born and I don’t remember much from before that, just fuzzy things that don’t really make sense. I don’t actually remember my sister from her birthday, but I remember the day. I remember standing in a long white hall next to a big white door. Everything seemed bigger and longer because I was two. I was leaning up against the wall and kind of squirming at the same time as two year olds are apt to do. My father was standing next to me for a while, but I mostly remember him being inside of the room next to me, where my mother was. I don’t remember being bothered about being alone in the white hall and I don’t remember being scared. A nurse walked by at one point in my memory. Some time during the course of the time I was standing in the hall I was given a chocolate chip cookie. This is the most exciting part of the memory. I was thrilled by the chocolate chip cookie. First of all it was HUGE. Maybe because I was two and everything seemed bigger, but this cookie was gigantic. I was so excited by it. Also, I’m pretty sure I had never had chocolate before, because my parents were not the type to just give me sweets. I think this is the root of my being a chocoholic. Which is not something I’m complaining about. I don’t mind being a chocoholic and as you can see I haven’t checked myself into any sort of chocoholic rehab, not that they have rehab for chocolate, but I’m not trying to stop. Anyway, back to my sister. So the most exciting thing for me about the day my sister was born was a chocolate chip cookie.
The next thing I remember about my sister – actually I’m not even sure if I remember it or if it’s a fake memory made up of an image from a picture and stories my mother told me. Anyway, the first memory of my sister with her actually in it is when she was home from the hospital, it might be a while after because she seemed kind of big for being newly born, but then at two everything is big. I remember holding her and wondering what she was and why she was here and most importantly why she was taking my mother’s time away from me. I think I was fairly hostile to the idea of having a sister at first, in fact for a long time. I didn’t really understand it. I know my mom blames herself for not getting me used to the idea of having a sister before my sister got there, but I don’t think that would really have mattered that much. I’ve baby sat for siblings before and the older one, despite obvious efforts by the parents, wasn’t very excited about being an older brother. However, I’ve also babysat for siblings where the older sister was very good with her little brother. It probably depends on the person. So my mom really shouldn’t blame herself.

LATER
I was more receptive to my sister later. We played together a lot, she was a fine playmate. She was there and basically did anything I asked her to do, which I thought was pretty cool. I remember once at a park, I was making up this game that we were explorers or something on an adventure and we were walking around the park doing different things and at one point I thought the explorers would eat an ant. I was ahead of my sister, doing everything first and then she followed behind and did what I said. So I said “eat an ant” and then pretended to eat an ant off a tree. My sister however, did not pretend and in fact ate an ant. It would have been fine had the ant not stung her tongue, which I found really funny. She however did not. Mom, I think was fairly amused. I didn’t get in trouble for that one, but I did feel bad about her being stung. Although, it was very funny.
My relationship with my sister was fairly off and on depending on everything. Some times we got along fine, other times we hated eachother with a passion, sometimes we ignored each other and a few times I hated her so much I just wanted to beat her head into the floor and make her go limp. Now I realize how scary that desire was. I’m scared that that was inside me. I think often I would express my emotions on my sister. Which makes sense. She became my outlet for venting. When I got older and more “mature” and stopped using my sister as a punching bag, I just generally started keeping my emotions in. This is what probably ultimately lend to my first break down. Its kind of ironic. My sister, who I expressed every hatred towards was what kept me emotionally stable for most of my younger years. It wasn’t until I stopped beating her, holding in those emotions and acting like a “mature” adult, did I have my emotional collapse. In a way, the play I posted oh, so long ago really is me recounting what I’ve done to my sister. I think that if I ever have a really successful play, it will be about the relationship between two sisters. I’m pretty sure I’m not ready to write that play yet. I think that’s what siblings are for, expressing emotions. My parents wouldn’t let my take out my grief and vent on them and I couldn’t do it to friends. My sister was there and she often provoked me into reacting negatively. My mom said she just wanted my attention and she did get it. Although, its not the type of attention I would want.

When we had moved, things got better because we were able to go into our own rooms and ignore each other, often slamming the doors on the way in. One summer when I was sleeping on my balcony, because I could and I was having a good summer, I let my sister sleep out there with me for a while. Usually, I was just me and sometimes the cat would join, but she had to sleep on my feet because I’m allergic to cats. Poor kitty, she so old now. Anyway, that was the summer before sixth grade I think. It was after the movie TITANIC had come out. Every night before she fell asleep I would have to sing her the Celion Dion song from that movie. It was cute. We got along really well that summer. She’s actually kind of cute when she sleeps, but don’t tell her I said that. I’ve got to keep up my reputation.

12 AND 10
The summer I was twelve and she was 10 was the hardest ever. Our dad was in Hawai’i for work and would be gone for months. We were both in Junior Lifegaurds that summer too. It was my third or fourth year doing it and her first. I had always been at a much more competitive beach before, but we had switched this summer, because it was closer. My sister has never really had a hard instructor. Lucky her. The summer was going to be lts of fun. Aside that I was in the same summer camp as my sister. The only problem was that mom got sick. Really, really sick. She was so sick that most of the time she didn’t get out of bed. Actually the whole, time she didn’t get out of bed, except when she went to the hospital. I was very worried about her. So was my sister. Mom never stayed in the hospital long because she had to look after us, even though she wasn’t really doing much except being there. I did most of the work. My mom’s illness, which they never figure out what caused it, really worried me. She was very sick. I know I thought she was going to die, but I didn’t say anything. I used all my energy to banish that thought from my head. I didn’t mention it to my mom and I most definitely didn’t mention it to my sister. She needed me to be strong. She was looking up to me to say everything was going to be okay and I told her it was, even though I wasn’t quiet sure, but I said it with as much conviction as possible, in order to make myself believe it.
The first time I went to the grocery store was when it really sunk in that this was a hard thing to do. The way the people looked at me as I picked the simple foods that we needed that I could use to feed my sister and I, since my mother wasn’t able to eat. Being only twelve buying bread, milk, juice and other staples I got the most pitying looks from the customers and employees. I could barely fight back the tears from those looks, the only thing that worked was adding the prices in my head and adding tax, to make sure I didn’t buy more then I had money for. Meals for that summer were not very nutrious and I assume that it didn’t help my present height. But neither my sister or I were ever hungry, I made sure of that. We always had cereal for breakfast and I made sandwiches for lunch, although it was often just peanut butter and jelly, and dinner was normally canned soup. My sister and I were lucky, we never lacked for fruit, since we had all the trees in our back yard. I think there were somedays when all we ate was fruit. I personally worried we weren’t getting enough protein, but I didn’t worry my mom or sister about that. Besides she did drink a lot of milk, more then I did, which I’m glad of. She’s taller then me now, which is frusterating, but I’m glad. My sister and I ate plums forever. They’re still her favorite fruit. I find them hard to chew.
I felt so guilty going to Junior Lifegaurd’s every day, even though it was only for three hours a day. I didn’t want to leave mom alone for so long. What if she needed something? She was so sick. It pained me to watch her. It also made me feel so helpless, because I was really too young to do anything. I couldn’t drive her to the hospital (my friends mom did that). I couldn’t heal her. The best thing I could do was make sure my sister was alright and that if mom ever needed anything I was there to get it for her. I wanted to stay home from Junior Lifeguards, but mom really wouldn’t let me and I didn’t want her to know I worried so much. I had to pretend I was a normal kid, despite all the sudden responsibility I had. I had to go to Junior Lifegaurds so mom wouldn’t worry and could focus on getting better and I couldn’t openly worry about mom, for fear of scaring my sister. Nights were hard. My sister would cry and I had to tell her everything would be all right, even when I didn’t know for sure and I couldn’t cry because I had to be strong for my sister. I often sleep with her in her bed so she wouldn’t worry so much. It would have been so easy to just stay with my friend all summer, but then I’d feel like I was deserting. Although mom kept coming home from the hospital, I knew she should have just stayed. In the hospital they could hook her up to the IV and she would get nutrients, she could be watched 24 hours a day and going back and forth didn’t seem to be good for her at all. Maternal instincts are really interesting. I think she kept coming home for us. However, she shouldn’t have. It was better for all of us when she was in the hospital full time. It did help me relax. I didn’t have to worry about her every second, because I knew there was always a doctor near by. With mom in the hospital I could focus on my sister and caring for her.
I felt like I had suddenly become a mother myself. I was feircely protective and I wanted her to be okay. I still feel those emotions creep over me every now and then, but I tell myself that I’m not really her mother and she doesn’t respond to me as such, which somewhere deep inside breaks my heart. However, being a mother figure is very tiring. One night, when mom was still home, I was able to get my sister to sleep over at a friends house. They lived really close so I was able to walk her over. That night was relaxing, because I only really had to look after myself again, even though mom was up stairs. But it made me realise how much I need my sister too.
I felt so strongly to keep us together and at home. My friend’s mom had offered do many times for us to stay with them, but I felt I should stay at home, even when mom was in the hospital.
Finally, when dad was able to come home and mom was staying in the hospital full time, my sister and I spent the last night before dad came home at my friends house. It was nice. I got to relax and almost be a kid again, but to be honest it took a very long time to really recover that and I’m not sure how much of my motherhood expirience I’ve let go. I still worry about how my sister is doing in school and where she’s going afterwards. Also, I blame myself for so many of her faults, the way I know my mom blames herself for mine, which is silly, but I’m probably right about my sister’s.

BREAKDOWNS
During my break downs, I always got this sense that the people around me – althoughI never let them in – were scared by me, because they didn’t know what to do and felt the same helpless feeling I had expirienced when my mom was sick. The only person I think that had a lasting impact on was my sister. I think she was terrified. I still see it in her eyes when she looks at me sometimes and I’m not sure how to react. Most people try to forget that period in my life and I tried to for a long time also. That wasn’t the way to fix it. When I talked to my sister about it ever so briefly, I could still hear that fear in her voice. It was like she was suddenly seeing someone she thought was invincible die. I had been strong for her and then she saw me crumble. One of the few exact memories I have of those times, was my mother saying to me “your sister’s really worried”. I then remember the look on her face when she came to tell me my fiance was outside and “has blueberries” – those are they two things I remember, the rest is a swirl of tears and sleep. I could see in her eyes the fear and concern. That’s what really shook me, even in my deep depressional collapse.

NOW
Now my sister and I get along like sisters. I think that’s because she has grown up so much and I’ve moved across the country. I think the move really helped my get over feeling like her mother. It wasn’t so much that I forgot that feeling, more like I realized she’s old enough to look after herself, even though she is naïve. Sort of in the same was parents accept that their kids must move on, except I’m the one who moved.

That’s about the best reconstruction I can do. I feel that the original was better, but I guess we’ll never know. Oh well, that’s life.

Good night.

Talk about a surprise

Today is definitely a day to blog. I know I just posted but in the modern world life moves at the speed of life and we are all just running to keep up. I just got off the phone with my father, from pleading (actually, I’ve never had to plead with my parents on the subject. Lucky me.) for him to pay this months credit card bill, because I don’t have enough in my checking account. No, my bill is not that big. My checking account it simply that small. All little more then ten dollars to be exact. I’m trying very hard to get a job. The blizzard roars on outside my window and I sit here with my chin dropped and my eyes bugging out. The theater I used to be very intimately involved in before I moved across the country for college has recently been undergoing a lot of changes in the way it is run. Which is a good thing, people were becoming complacent and dust was gathering around all the corners, unless a few of the resident teenagers (myself included) decided to make out and kicked up some dust in the process. Anyway, one of the changes was forbidding any paid employees to be on the board of directors, or some thing to that effect. Anyway, the theater’s Technical Director (TD hereafter) was also the Treasurer, a rather ingrained gruff old man, and apparently he has been mismanaging the books. My first thought was he was taking money from the theater. But au contraire, mes amies, au contraire. He was hiding the fact that the theater owes 23 thousands dollars in back taxes. OMG!!!! I was blown away. The theater just paid off its mortgage. Why would anyone hide that? Then it crossed my mind that the theater is non-profit organization and I thought non-profits didn’t have to pay taxes. I’m sure somewhere one of my facts is wrong. I think it’s the one about the theater being a non-profit. That sounds like something I would get wrong. I am so shocked. I don’t know what to say. To be honest, although the TD is a fine guy, I was one of the people he actually got along with (because I let him think he was smarter then I was, but I know a lot of stuff that he doesn’t know I know. Ya know? That was meant to be confusing). Anyway, I always thought he was hiding something. I bet that’s why he’s always so testy and quick to yell, or be angry. He must nave been scared shitless, when he wasn’t allowed to be Treasurer anymore. I know I would be. It was really only a matter of time before they found out.
Anyway, that’s all on that matter. I was just so shocked. I am going to rewrite (I still don’t think that’s the right word) my intense post from yesterday. I just need to take sometime and re-align my shokra – just kidding – well just the shokra part – I just need to take a moment to recompose my emotions and get in the right mood, which includes getting over the previous shock.

Remeber the beautiful weather yesterday. Well today its snowing. All I can manage to say about it is: WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!?!

I have a lot of time right now and I'm not in my dorm. The weather was beautiful today. Now the sun is down. I'm still rather shellshocked from losing such an intense post. I know by writing this I'm building up the story and that when I actually get around to rewriting (that doesn't feel like the right word) it, I hope you are not disappointed. There really isn't anything to say I'm trying to pass time until my next class. Normally, I would be having dinner, but Scurvyseawench has a meeting and convinced me to have dinner with her after class, which is late, even though I think my boy friend has dinner at this time with the people. Well he did last week. Yes, I am calling him my boyfriend now. I think its alright. I haven't called him my boyfriend to anyone, but I'm saying it to myself which is the first step. Anyway, I'm just shellshocked and going along with wahtever anyone tells me. It'll be nice to have dinner with just her and I did see my boyfriend (that still sounds new on my tongue) this morning. Which I'm only saying to make myself feel better about not eating with him now, if he is eating. Not that I should feel bad. Anyway, now I'm just rambling from shock. Typing is rather soothing. I should stop and go read. I got through about half of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in the first sitting and I was just reading for the last hour until my sister called. She was the center point of the missing post. Anyway, I think there's only about 50 pages left or there abouts. I'm going to try to finish them before class. Or maybe in class. Its one of those days. Words make me feel better.

Its interesting the was fate works. or if you don't believe in fate, just life in general. I finally came to a place within myself where I felt I was ready to write about a particular summer that I think really changed most aspects of my life. I sat and I wrote, for about an hour. I just let everything pour out. It wasn't an easy thing to do, but I felt I was ready. The cruel twist of fate, is that when I hit the "publish" button the entire post disappeared and did not reappear despite my attempts. I'm going to have to recover from that a bit, before I attempt to tell that story agsin. I'll try it next weekend or over spring break. I'm not promising any thing, but it's time to get this out.
But now I need to go to class.

Reflections from the Past

Life after a break down is like living in an impenetrable fortress. Nothing can get in and you don't let anything out. Eventually, the precieved invaders stop trying because the wall is too tall and too thick. They leave you alone and it gets worse.




A haphazard love affair of the third kind, to sweep you off your feet and make you believe in love again.

I finally finished Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. It feels like it took forever, not that I didn't enjoy it. I just don't remember the last time a book took me a few months to read. Oh, yes, it was Gone with the Wind, but I was in sixth grade and the book is about a thousand pages long. There's something very peaceful about reading. You never feel like you're wasting time, but you're not rushing around in the hectic world outside. You can make the world of the book go any pace you want, you can repeat sections. The next book on the list is Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Hopefully, I can finish this one before the movie come out.
I feel I haven't really said anything worth listening to recently and I'm sorry. I guess that's the price I pay for happiness.


I think things are going to be all right with The Boy. I got that feeling to go away.

Through all this intense happiness with life and everything that has been happening, I also have been feeling an intense fear. This fear resides just under my happiness and it was just waiting to come to the surface and spill all over this glorious happiness and create a contaminated world. This fear resides in the pit of my stomach and makes me nauseous with each step of each day. This fear resides in my lips and makes them tremor when held tightly together and nervous when a part. This fear resides in my brain and holds every action I attempt in indecision. This fear has blossomed forth.
Tonight I saw a play my teacher wrote and it was really good. You could really see the progression of the characters and the story. It was very well done, I'm glad she's my teacher. But that is a side step from the root of my fear. To the show I went with the usual gang; Scurvyseawench, countrybird and tokentestosterone. Then he brought a girl in our department and I asked the boy (I suppose I should give him a name). Seeing the show was fine and helped clean up the oil spill of fear making my happiness dirty. While organizing plans to meet for tonight he asked if I wanted to get tickets for "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" which is being revived. I really like absurdism, besides from the fact that he asked, so of course I said yes. But typical me, I needed to make things needlessly complicated. He offered to buy both tickets and I could pay him back later, which makes a lot of sense. However, being a college student I have a cash flow issue and by that I mean I don't have CASH. So I needed to put my ticket on my credit card, so we decided to buy tickets separately. I get on as soon as the tickets are available and get one. Then half and hour later he calls and I can't pick up because I'm in class, and he says that they are sold out and gets one for a different date. O ME. Needlessly complicated. So in order to fix the problem I tried to get another ticket for the same date as he, after class, but by then it was sold out. Ay gevald. (that definitely merited Yiddish). Then to top it all off, I told him to meet us twenty minutes after class got out. TWENTY MINUTES. What was I think? So all in all I needlessly complicated matters, as usually and that fear, that I would mess things up with The Boy only came true. But he forgave me, and insisted that I didn't need being forgiven, but somewhere inside, where that fear used to be, it this feeling that its all ready a lost cause. I DON'T WANT IT TO BE OVER NOW. I want more of this happiness and I want this Boy to still care. I don't want to prove myself right, that I'm incapable of doing this sort of thing. I WANT THIS FEELING TO GO AWAY!!!!!!!!!!! GO AWAY!!!!!!!!!!

Where for art thou god?

I've been struggling with the concept of god for a while now. Since, god won't answer me, I've had to make the decision about hir* for myself. The best conclusion I've come to about the nature of god is such:
god is time and gravity and the end of space
That's about as much as I believe.
I think I'm just going to let that sink in for a while.

*gender neutral pronoun, replaces the possessive adjectives: his/her/its. Since, god doesn't talk to me, I don't know zir gender.

What has been waited for

What a glorious snowy day. Its warm and the snow is falling down in large fluffy chunks. Snow makes me irrationally happy. I just walk down the street with a huge smile on my face everytime it snows, then I remind myself I live in New York and need to scowl. So I scowl and find that funny and just end up smiling more. I'm pretty sure most people think I'm a little bit off (to be nice to myself) when they see my face going through this silly routine. Smile, scowl, giggle, smile, scowl and repeat on and on, until I give up.
I've only now realized how long it really has been since I've written. This is not good at all. The boy I keep making little allusions to and I seem very happy as of now. I'm very excited for this whole relationship (?). My friend scurveyseawench says that he is the nicest guy ever "and I'm not just saying that because he's my cousin." I agree, I don't believe I've ever met a nicer person in my whole entire life, seriously. He also makes me irrationally happy, so when I'm with him and its snowing, I'm bursting at the seams with happyiness. Its rather silly how happy it makes me. If you are wondering about the cousin comment. Yes, they are cousins, well sort of. They have a mutual cousin, so they are like cousins by marriage. Its pretty awesome.
The happiness just keeps pouring forth. Today I'm seeing "Spamalot", the musical based on Monty Python. Its going to be absolutely amazing. Well, if I can see it. I'm all the way up in the rafters, but I'm silly very excited about it. I'm sitting with Scurvyseawench and Countrybird, who I would like to say are the female loves of my life. I am straight, so they are the straight loves of my life. Tokentestosterone and Megacoporationman got the expensive tickets and although they are going tonight also, they're going to sit in the orchestra. Silly rich people. On one hand I'm jealous and on the other I'm not. Oh, well, the show should be amazing where ever I sit.

HAPPINESS
I would like to talk about happiness for a bit, as the midsection title suggests. Happiness is such an important part of every day life. Its not something you really notice or notice how it effects everything, until you don't have it. But when you have it back. WOW!! Everything is amazing. The whole world changes and reveals itself to you in ways you could never image possible. Everything is amazing and incredible and worth noticing. The way the snow clings to the trees, or the way your bes friend smiles when you see each other or smells. All types of smells. Even ones that seems foul before are funny and exciting, like sweat. It will tell you so much about a person. Also, the way light falls on the face of the person sitting across the table from you and the way he smiles as you talk about meaningless silliness. I love happiness. I want to swallow it and keep it forever and never let go. But because I've seen the other side, every moment I'm happy, I'm also waiting for it to crumble to dust in front of me again. So I say wait and I grab that happiness and I don't let it escape each moment its still there.