Another New Struggle

Descending the dark stairs within the English building, I had a moment of deep melancholy. I wished the staircase would go on forever, and I could watch each foot fall after the other, feeling the pang of the muscles in my legs straining and stretching forward. Always going down, down, down, speaking to no one, only listening to their innocent conversations, calling a blessing after every sneeze, hearing their shoes stamp in time and watching my feet fall. No destination. No time. No change.

That was on Thursday after Intro to Fiction. We were discussing "My Life with the Wave" by Octavio Paz, and talk quickly turned to modern relationships (which was in fact relevant). Somehow I felt disgusted by it and wasn't entirely sure why.

I'm watching myself get carried away with my feminist thoughts. It's always about balance... Anger is not balanced.

I had a lot of anger that day. Not really strong anger, just something a little beyond annoyance... confrontation. I felt confrontational. I wanted to fight the world. That only lasts a minute or two, of course, and then that tiredness I'm so accustomed to sets in and I just feel like lying down and dying instead.

Does something about humanity ever bother you so much that you don't want to be human anymore?

I felt like that then. I was angry at men and angry at women. I was angry at relationships. I was angry about the way the world works. I was angry at my mind.

Can anger be healthy? Is it unhealthy to never feel anger? Thoughts?

Transition: Friday:

So one of my suitemate's friends has a birthday soon. Said suitemate and another friend are planning a stripper party for her. Hilarious? A little? To me, yes. I was invited, too, but quickly declined.

I love my suitemate. Sometimes I want to write poems about her. I love how loud she is, how confrontational, how dramatic.

She liberates me. When she sings off-key, loudly, rebelliously, I am singing. When she yells, I am yelling. When she wails, laments, curses her life over a relatively small misfortune (or a large one), she does what I deny myself.

I love her.

Yet the nature of her personality means that I shrink from her. She is authority and I am passivity. Not that we don't get along, not that she gives orders and I follow them... Neither of us is unkind to the other. But the thing is, me taking any kind of stand against her, should the need arise, is highly unlikely.

So. She and the friend were talking about the stripper party and Nichole said "I wonder if they let strippers in dorms..."

I was lying on the couch reading. I kept my place with one finger and closed the book. I don't care if they think strippers and drinking are fun, but I don't want to be around it. When they have parties in the common room, I tell them all goodnight and close my door. They're loud, but it doesn't really bother me. But strippers? If they're loud just watching a movie... how can I ignore that?

"Nichole! No."

She laughed. "Why?"

"In the dorm? Why is that a good idea?" I laughed, too. I didn't want to be a jerk, so I tried to make it comical. "If you want to get strangers to take their clothes off for you, awesome, but don't do it here."

"Yeah... other people live here," said the friend.

Nichole laughed and said okay. I opened my book again and went back to reading.

I can't really believe I did that. For a normal person, that isn't a big deal, but it's completely out of character for me. To directly, blatantly, tell a person no? Normally, I would have said nothing and just planned on trying to spend that night at the commune, and if I couldn't, I just would have dealt with it.

I'm not sure if it's a good thing. Maybe it was unreasonable of me.


I've been writing that off and on since Thursday. I didn't want to end on that other sentence... so... instead I'll tell you that today I experienced my first Rain at J&B.

My thoughts are scattered and I'm far from a resolution... but it's okay.

Right as rain indeed.

Sunday Number One

So two days ago I had my first Sunday of God, letters, and books. It went pretty well.

I could only get two sentences out on Sunday when I attempted to write a letter to my mom. Today I tried again and easily filled the fronts and backs of two small pages (I'm writing on Caswell paper). It's about a page and a half in Word.

After folding it, addressing the envelope, and stamping it I'm feeling accomplished. I also left this note on the back of the envelope:

To the mail workers: Thank you so much for sending/carrying/sorting this! I hope you're having a great day!

I hope that isn't offensive. I just wanted to say thank you to them. Mail people are so amazing.

All that's left is to drop it in the bin in the basement of the SUB.

I love you and I wish you a glorious day!

Hello There 2010

Do you ever have so much to say that you can't think of any words at all?

Lynnemazing once said "You can pack a lot in two weeks," and she is absolutely right. In fact... if you think about it... if we truly experienced all the things that happened around us in a single day...

I can't imagine it. Even in our own narrow view as tiny individuals, there is so much all around us. In only a second, more than we can understand... even the bits we catch are more than we can understand.

Maybe not, though. What do I know about a human brain?

So I played my song for my mom a few hours ago. I took out the line "Try the medicine" because I haven't told her about that yet, but she didn't even really notice. She didn't catch all the words and said she was very tired, which works in my favor. I'm going to send her the lyrics and explain someday in a letter. She did say she liked it, though.

I told her I intended to write her and my father letters and she said she really liked that idea. She said she would make time to write back.

That's that, then. Nothing is stopping me but myself. Nothin' to it but to do it.

I have a New Year's Resolutions to make.

For You, 2010

-Sunday is for God, letters, and books

"For God" doesn't necessarily mean a Catholic church, though. I think for quite a while, until I learn more, I'm going to keep going to St. E's, but I'm hoping to do other things, too. Like lie in Urbanovsky Park and look up at the sky, spend time with God outside. I was also thinking I want to go to Sighing Leaves and play Him some tunes.

The letters... I have so many people to write letters to. I've got to get in the habit of it to make sure I'll be all set to write Sistern letters in Africa. And of course my parent project...

And books. Books! I haven't been reading much, and it's killing me.

I hope I can do that at least most Sundays.

You know what I discovered this last week? Being happy is really freaking nice. This last semester had a lot of highs and lows and not many mediums. Several times this past week I've had some amazing mediums... not medium happy, medium like... like... balanced. Like peaceful happy. Like... Like content happy. I don't know. But it was absolutely amazing.

Last night I dreamed there was a staircase inside my kitchen cabinet.

I love painting murals with my sister. We had three more potential job offers today. What a thing it would be to paint this town, and what a story it would be to travel the country painting walls.

My grandmother said, upon seeing a picture of the nearly finished mural, "We need to go down there and make a Bing-Bing-boom!", a celebration.

I don't know what I'm saying really. I'm just tired and want to save a few thoughts.

Here's a final one. You have some interesting encounters with the Townies when you spend your days painting walls in Cooper, Texas. One man had this to say about a spot on our mural:

"Blame it on the woolybooger."