Nearly a new year

I've been home for just over a week now. Most days it has rained. The trees are extremely deeply green, and the goose is quieter than he used to be. Not much has happened, as usual, except seeing people on Sunday and at the Christmas Eve service.

Highlights of Christmas gifts include: Batman movie (the one with Jack Nicholson and Michael Keaton. No, I haven't watched it yet, but I WILL.), a Batgirl camo hat, more monkey socks, an Escher calendar, and a blue fuzzy fleece blanket. The family got the movie Amazing Grace (about Wilberforce); we watched it last night, and I was pleased.

I've been spending most of my time reading. Each time I read a George MacDonald book, I am more impressed; this time I read Lilith. I hope I don't run out of things to read before school starts again, but at my current rate of approximately .8 books per day, I'm afraid I shall have to entertain myself some other way. Perhaps I'll sew, or drive to the beach (if the rain stops), or something else...

Sigh. I really do miss school! Is this odd? Maybe I need my head examined, but I miss my classes, and even my homework. And yes, I miss people too. Even my "wfr." It's odd having a room to myself, with nobody to share late-night random conversations with. Things are quiet and proper and well-behaved here. Perhaps I shall start some mischief, in memory of mwfr!

almost there

The semester's almost over! I just have one more final, and I have several days to study.

My wonderful roommate gave me an early birthday present today... adding Riddick to my movie collection makes it even better and crazier. She also said I need to write about her on my blog, so here goes. She makes this wonderful good-smelling potpourri-in-a-pot-on-the-stove stuff, and it makes our apartment smell warm and Christmas-y. And she makes us all laugh, which is most refreshing. And she lent me a big puffy long black winter coat today. I wore it with a belt, and felt like a poofy black snowman, and had the Pooh-bear song stuck in my head with different words, like so: "I'm just a little black snowman..." It is a warm, cozy coat, and I am honored that she let me wear it. It has been very cold outside, and the wind-chill is face-chilling.

There now, I've written enough for the moment. Must find something to DO.

Wrong again...

Once again, I discover that my assumptions of how other people perceive me are terribly wrong. This time I learn by somebody thanking me for being something I didn't realize I was being. Or, rather, somebody I'd love to be, but feel woefully inadequate for and incompetent at. Not to mention that some of what they said IS true, but I've never told this person, or really anybody else, and I don't know this person all that well, so I have NO IDEA how they knew. So I am confused, and a bit pleased. It's encouraging to hear a good word when I thought ignorance would be all...

Maybe I'm doing something right after all, even though I feel so disjointed and misplaced and fuzzy-visioned. Apparently near-strangers see more than I do; and far more than I ever expected. But I am still confused. Why? How? Am I that transparent? How did they know? And why did they thank me? Why say anything at all? Sigh. Ah, well. I need to think about this more positively: I got complimented!!

Read John 8:1-11. This is the woman speaking:

Give me cruel stipulations,
but listen to my defense!
my guilt - their suspicion - until
the grins of wicked men pinned
your sin
on me.
My will meant nothing - your tricks
tore my purity from my form
as lions rip skin off their prey.
They interrupted, caught me in shame,
lit a fire at midnight
to sit, in a circle,
mock my shivering,
and judge: kill her.
I want to live! But you did not care.
The test they devised would condemn
my sinful life
and an innocent -
your trick kiss is catching a man
kinder than you,
but I am afraid:
Will he save himself or me?

a week has passed...

The swirling dust is settling, leaving a thin layer over my head. I am thankful for this past week. Thankful for my family, for mahjong, for music, for fast cars. Thankful for people who will listen to me, and, instead of calling me crazy or delusional, will believe and encourage me. I am thankful for being around people who are just as unusual as me, who have fun, act silly, and laugh.

There is still much to process, much I don't understand, and I have no idea what lies ahead. But I care less, knowing that my family loves me, and knowing that I am not the only person my age who feels clueless and lonely. And I still have school to occupy my time, and hopefully my thoughts too.

Maybe someday things will make more sense. But for now, I'll just be glad for what I do have, and read, think, write, and live.

Similarities...

Woohoo! I'm crazy, who are you? Are you a crazy too?

I should be overwhelmed, but instead I wish I could fence.

I should be researching Fitzgerald, but instead I'm reading Virgil and thinking it sounds similar to the Silmarillion.

I should be busy and contented, for I've got plenty to do, but instead I'm bored out of my mind and feeling the start of hyper edging into my nerves. Spastic will soon be my new name unless I get rid of this somehow...

Life is like a box of chocolates: the more you bite off, the more crazy and energetic and hyper and happy you get, until you suddenly drop like a whirlwind into low blood-sugar and the grumps and urges to methodically knock people's hats off until someone challenges you to a fist-fight (with soap!) and you realize you're not sure if you'd rather fight till you drop or just go sleep...

Join the club, all you crazies! Things are just about to get interesting.

Villanelle: Dubium

Above the chilled dirt a thin voice sings,
trilling hope and greeting dawn's pale light,
and buried heads doubt what joy day brings.

A glowing nimbus crowns the hill and flings
fresh visions outward, shows a bird in flight.
Above the chilled dirt a thin voice sings.

Echoing voices reverberate like drumming wings,
vibrant praises raised fold back the gloomy night,
and buried heads doubt what joy day brings.

Confidence is shaken, for her shining things
all faded and wilted just out of sight.
Above the chilled dirt a thin voice sings.

Whence comes glory? Is it found in kings
wrapped in crimson, or silver armored might?
And buried heads doubt what joy day brings.

A promise was made, and to it she clings:
that wrong will always be conquered by right.
Above the chilled dirt a thin voice sings,
and buried heads doubt what joy day brings.

happy tidbits of the day

Drizzles and leaves of fire.

Small red lizard on sidewalk. (less than 3 inches long. really. and brick red. I moved him to the grass.)

Falcon sitting on a light-post outside Jenks.

Exam: not as difficult as I expected.

Transcript transfer.

Cash!

Catch-up with former roommate.

Game 1: 13-1, Red Sox win.

Brownies!

Good day? Yup, I think so.

Hurrah!

I just watched the Red Sox vs Indians game on TV with an apartment-mate, while "studying" Latin. And they won! I'm very excited. Of course, now I want to watch the World Series, and that means huge chunks of time. I'd better procrastinate less. But it was a grand game to watch. And it's always better with another, even more devoted (or psychotic, depending on how you look at it) fan nearby.

So. That was a great ending to a wonderful weekend. More faith-in-people restoration has occurred. And my long afternoon walk was gorgeous. The colors make me incredibly happy and smiley inside. Not to mention that adventures with people are nearly ALWAYS grand.

Contented sigh.

Capes me, Domine.

discoveries

Discovery one: I really like Vienna Teng's music. Two: I don't like writing dialogue. Three: I prefer the feel of cooling air to the feel of heating air. Four: I want it to rain!

And, just for good measure, some random poetic phrases I wrote the other day. They do not necessarily go together, nor is the order very important. They are random couplets. That is all.

drifting mellow, swimming sweet
fallen dreams surround my feet


taut and silver, twisted wires
span the ground from tall bronze spires

spilling barley from a basket
feeds a child or fills a casket

a fish, some scales, sliding sand
bread, a scepter, hollow hand

tiny camouflage hides a mountain
whispered secrets drown a fountain

blue desires eat turquoise dreams
nothing ever's what it seems

...and that is all for now. I want a brother to talk to...

from late last night.

Someday, they say,
when the world is all grown up -
wise in deception and strong in lies -
this glistening oily pearl
shimmering in the waiting firmaments
will, exposed as fake
to watching starry eyes,
abandon pretence of gloried form
and fall,
melt,
explode into eternity,
scattering millions of molten shards and splinters
out into and through space,
leaving an empty sphere-shaped
brilliance
as Truth
replaces all that the grasping grinning false gods
strung, hung, pulled together into their evil orb
until Time itself cried
"enough!"
and rang the alarm.

But for now, as the gloom gathers, thickens, writhes
with evil intentions, all
any of us can do
is wait.

"FOLLOW ME."

somewhat morbid poem...

I wrote this last night. It's a little morbid. Started with me thinking of the phrase "flounder soundly;" then I wrote down a bunch of words with "ou" sounds, then "ee" sounds... this resulted eventually:

Breezes flounder,
green leaves whisper,
gowning weeping trees with
sound,
crownéd beasts arriving slowly,
singing softly,
bringing night.

Underground in
sleep eternal,
armored brightly, golden
bound,
feeding worms with rotten honor,
buried knights dream
fearing fright.

Slaughtered lately,
eyes turn inward,
staring blind at secrets
found,
flesh decays and thoughts grow moldy;
breach all wisdom
freeze all light.

further up and further in...

My bed is complete! My rain boots are here! My room is finally (mostly) complete and livable.

It also rained yesterday - a wet, honest-to-goodness leave you dripping rain. My boots weren't here yesterday, though, so I wore sandals and my roommate's silver raincoat and a hat. And even though I didn't splash through any puddles, I watched the trees dripping, and the pine-needles glistening, and smiled at the grey sobbing sky. Oh, it was glorious! Oh, it was beautiful! I love rainy days! I love the dancing dents and ripples on the pond. I love the way the clouds look soft and somehow connected to the sky, with fingers reaching down to refresh the earth.

I've also discovered that BBC started a Robin Hood TV show last year; this year's season hasn't started, but I've watched several of last season's episodes, and I love it. It's not historically believable - the Sheriff sometimes looks like he's wearing Birkenstocks, Robin wears a hoodie, Little John wears jeans, other clothes are obviously army outcasts - but it's witty and fun, and the characters are characters. It makes me smile.

So does homemade chai tea.

Settling in

I have now been on-campus for nearly a week, and it still does not feel entirely real. I'm mostly moved in; my bed's not made, but most everything else is in place. The food situation isn't difficult. Although it will take time to figure out how much of what I need...

Classes are going well, I think. It's hard to tell, since I've only had three days of class, but so far I like what we're doing. Much reading...

My frustration is a feeling of detachment. This is a common experience each time I move from one location to another. It's worse when I move here because I don't know either as many people (at least it feels that way), nor know anyone as well as I do back home. Since I'm not home, I don't see my family. And although I'm here, I don't have many people to hang out with. I also don't know how to stay in touch with people who aren't here. Phone call? Don't like that without a concrete reason; I'm not to fond of or good at small talk. Email? Easily ignored, and, once again, I like having something specific to say. I don't like seemingly pointless communication. Well, that's not entirely true. I just don't know how to initiate it. So. I'll just continue to read The Iliad, and memorize Latin declensions, and write poetry, and try not to think too much about missing people...

Right.

leaving

The little brother is gone back to Indiana. Another friend has gone back to Berkeley, and another back to Utah, and another soon will fly back to New York, and things look emptier and quieter every day. Of course, Dawn is now home, which makes things more bearable. And I only have two more days at work, before I take time off to go shopping and to the river and to wash and pack everything for another year away from home.

Things are unravelling and wrapping up all at once, and the threads are tangling, pulling and knotting. Great, fun times have appeared, been thoroughly enjoyed, then have faded into yesterday or last week. Everything falls backwards eventually. My memory does not last. There's a certain intensity, a reality, that is felt every time something happens, but I forget it. I cannot call it back, so it feels like every day that I gain something, I lose something, too. And loss feeds regret.

Only one more week, and I, too, will have flown away, joining my friends in their academic exodus. And what next, I do not know. Uncertainty... I must learn to take it graciously, to be a grass rather than an oak tree. Squill.

it's a song. written Thursday. yes, it has a tune. ask me to sing it if you want to hear...

just a glimpse is enough
just a word will fulfill
just a touch will heal my wounds and make me whole

all i need to see
is the glory of your presence
and all i need to hear
is the song of your love
and all i need to feel
is the warmth of your mercy
just a glimpse, just a word, just a touch
will make me whole

newsishy stuff

The not-so-little one just returned this evening from a two-week trip to Costa Rica. The big sis has arrived in France from Croatia. I am back to mostly normal health, which means working again. Things are normal-ish, I suppose. Not ready yet for the summer to wind down. Mostly I'm not ready for people to start leaving. There are conversations I still wish to have, sunsets still to be watched, fun still to be had. Working full-time leaves not enough space or energy for random adventures. This makes me sad.

I found Plutarch's Lives in the bookcase, and have started reading it. Am also reading Children of Dune and The Question of God and Death in the City. I like variety. Mum bought me a Latin and English Dictionary. It will be useful, I can tell already.

Courage, faceless one. I need courage. I need the guts to just CALL people, by golly, and get it over with. They won't bite; they won't complain. And I'm always just fine once the phone call starts. It's just so doggone difficult to work up the courage and work down the nerves to actually dial the stupid phone. Blechh.

tired, but good book

Been sick have I, since last Friday. Nearly a week it has been. Better, feel I. Gone, the fever is. Antibiotics gotten today. Hopefully I'll go back to work on Monday. But for now, I'm still very very tired.

Yesterday was my little brother's 19th birthday. Older, this makes me feel.

This week has been uneventful, primarily because I have been ill. Didn't go out last weekend. Tried going to work this morning... had to leave after barely an hour. Didn't have the energy to do anything. Can't walk, file things away. Just plain exhausted. I'm not accustomed to the effects of a three-day fever. I don't get fevers often, and when I do, they normally last only a day. My body's worn out right now. I don't like it. I hate suddenly dropping into the nearest chair because my legs refuse to support my weight any longer. I'm not used to being drained enough to not even have energy for fidgeting. Hopefully the antibiotics will speed my recovery. Oy.

Finished reading My Antonia a couple days ago. My first book by Willa Cather. I enjoyed it very much. It was fresh, deep, and full of vivid nature imageries. Very real and potent and clear. I think someday I might want my own copy of it. Reading of Nebraskan summers also stirred a desire to see, and be in, a real Midwest thunderstorm, complete with green stormy clouds, breathtaking warm downpours, crazed flashing lightning, and thunder. Oh, the thunder! It just rolls and roils and breathes! Weather pleases me tremendously.

But now I must sleep. Sick person need sleep!

ooh bla dee!

My last post was unhappy. I was honestly miserable. Then Thursday turned around, and things got better. When Friday arrived, things got even more better. (Yes, I said "more better." It was intentional. Please forgive me, self.) Friday was very good. And those very same people I complained about? They made those days good. I spent time with them, and enjoyed myself immensely. So thanks to them. I have a nasty habit of underestimating them.

I also discovered a new wonderful kind of tea Friday: Jasmine green tea. It was good.

Both Sunday and Monday nights I got to play badminton again. We have a tendency to play until it is very dark. Until 9.45, when you can barely see the other people, much less the birdie. Then Monday night we also had a rubber-band fight. I like those. They are fun and simple, and vicious. I gave welts, received none. I'm a strange one.

And these evening, we had another steel jam session, and it pleased me. My brother was really tired, so he almost didn't want to go, but then afterwards he said he needed it. He felt much better. It's odd how you can feel more rested after expending energy, if you're playing music. It was one of those sessions that just felt right and good, and healing. It worked. I love it when that happens! Mmm, calypso.

So I am doing better? Yes. I still want more talking with people, more quality time. But life is not bad. In fact, I'm very glad I have it.

fireworks hatred

I should not have gone.

I didn't want to go. Why did I go anyway? I shouldn't have. Last year should have clued me in. That and all of my past: even when people are there, I'm alone. And the aloneness is made much less bearable by the presence of others. And I'm always alone around them. When will I learn?

It was too smoky for me to keep my eyes open, so I put a blanket over my head, closed my eyes, and waited for the fireworks to end. So I didn't see them. But there was still too much smoke. Now my eyes hurt, my lungs hurt, and once again I have deep regrets to add to my ever-growing pile.

I'm going to cry myself to sleep tonight.

Yesterday

Yesterday was Friday. In the evening was the high school graduation, which in itself is uninteresting and unimportant to me, as I barely even kinda-sorta-maybe know any of the graduates. However. It gave me an opportunity to play my steel pans again. That was grand. It's amazing how quickly I remember where all the notes are. Hurrah! I very much look forward to playing more this summer.

In addition, I got to see a friend who I didn't expect to see this summer. Her little brother was graduating, so I said hi and got a hug, and that was an extra blessing. I guess that conclusion to all this was that yesterday wasn't bad. It wasn't bad at all, despite less than wonderful beginnings and middles.

And now my older sister is on her way to Europe for the next two months, and I must, once more, attempt to live without her around to help keep me sane. We shall see how well I manage.

regularity

Well, I'm starting to get into a bit of a pattern. My body is beginning to adjust to the regular work hours. Of course, I'm still having a bit of trouble getting to bed earlier... But I'm less tired after work.

I also find that I'm not having much time to just sit down and think; I'm not sure if this is because of deep physical exhaustion affecting my brain, or if it's partly unconsciously intentional. It could be at least a little of me not wanting to think. Not really, thoroughly or helpfully. I'd rather just keep going through the days, without extreme analysis. I feel like if I try to evaluate what I'm doing, I'll get discouraged, because in the big picture I'm not doing anything. And my inter-personal interactions with people who aren't members of my immediate family are minimal still, much to my chagrin.

I also haven't been writing. Anything. Nor reading much. Sigh. Tomorrow I get to begin to become re-acquainted with my pans. I am pleased about this. And June's not over yet, so things can still change.

smiles despite the fog

The explosions have lessened. Thursday improved everything. My insides are still twitching with radioactivity, but it's better contained. And surrounded by stable things.

Yesterday my sister and I stayed up late talking in my room. My blue lights are up, and we sprawled on my bed listening to cool jazz. And she said my room was at peace, which was very good to hear.

I'm playing bass at church tomorrow, too, which I always enjoy doing.

So things are better. Now to just pray that they continue this positive trend.

My world is disintegrating, and I am exploding to fill the void.

It never matters whether it's fission or fusion: they both destroy with violent thoroughness.

If this doesn't stop soon, I'm not sure I'll survive. And if I do, I won't be intact; I'll be in thousands of pieces and impossible to put together again. Or I'll have liquified, or gassified. Either way, it will not be pretty. That's putting it mildly.

I need something to happen to turn this all around. Need.

at home...

I've been home for nearly a week now.

I have a job. I'm basically over my little cold. I have my health, I have my family, I have food and shelter and beautiful things to look at...

...so why do I feel so empty?


Maybe I am empty. My soul is beginning to ring a bit hollow when struck. I don't like this, not one bit. So what can I do to return to a fully solid state?

Star Wars - Murphy's Law. Just for fun...

What do Star Wars teach us? Nothing good.

1. Never Stop Moving. (may the force be with you)
2. Short is Bad. (stormtrooper comment)
3. Be Stupid and Emotional. (Don't think. Feel)
4. Nighttime is Good. (Give in to the dark side)
5. You Must Obey Me. (I am your father)
6. Don't Even Try. (Do or do not. there is no try)
7. You Have No Control. At All. (it's your destiny)
8. It's All Going to Go Wrong. (I've got a bad feeling about this)

Summation: Don't stop moving, but don't ever do anything. Be stupid and emotional and avoid the sun. Do whatever you can to grow tall, and, more than anything, don't try to change anything. Cause you can't. It's hopeless.

And this is an American phenomenon?

Disclaimer: I enjoy Star Wars. Honestly. Well, at least, I enjoy the original trilogy. But not the best philosophy for life...

done and gone.

next stop: breathe, reboot, and live.

fevering

coughing

sneezing & dripping

and... linear algebra exam, packing, cleaning tomorrow

no brain. need brain. water. sleep. breathe. survive. please.

this just wrote itself...

The lover is a creator:
he gathers words, looks, thoughs,
and pulls them through his heart
into deeds.
His love is like glass:
translucently strong, hot and liquid,
or cool and clearly solid
when molded into rainbowed beams.
His look is light:
it illuminates, reveals, shines like fire,
scatters darkness to fill the void with brightness,
making glowing what once was dimly hid.
For love is a wonder:
redeeming pleasure, deep-lit smiles,
renewing forgiven faults, and
casting off and burning old ways.
It once sees all,
then, seeing, sends to frozen universe' end
the dross,
keeping in glazen brazen jeweled frames
the picture of the good,
of delightful beauty.
Love makes pleasure and joy of all.

random things from my essay.

the essay was serious; these interjections were not. i was in a strange mood...

when the muse strikes, she strikes hard. I think I'd have a perpetual migraine if she hit me every day. ... Being hit in the head certainly does explain a great many mental aberrations. Or at least it's a good excuse...

The computer gnomes would prefer that everybody communicated in C++ or 1337. I like to think that I foiled their plans.

Talking about getting feedback on a work of art, such as a poem:
you produce something that's a piece of you. You make it, mold it, create it, and it contains you, the essence of who you are. And people take it, finger it, sniff it, lick it perhaps, then pull out a shining knife, sharpen the knife, and proceed to dissect it. Then they examine each part closely, perhaps pointing out a few pretty places. This whole time you are on edge, feeling every prick of the knife, catching every whiff of uncertainty. Finally, they set it down, look at you, shake their heads, and swipe it into the trash. Then, just for good measure, they make you watch the trash compactor at work. How in the name of anything is that supposed to make you feel good? Huh? Got an answer, little gnomes? No? That's cause there isn't one. See, if the gnomes won't shut up when you tell them to, just scare them silly. It's your best bet. Or at least it's mine. Boo! Ha! Scared them again. And now, in the silence, I shall continue...

Feedback is a he. Sass is feminine. So's manipulation, but that's not the point.

Yes, neuron gnomes, I'm talkin' to YOU!

If my mind were a broken record instead of a computer, it would be much easier to remember things. But it would be boring, too, I suppose, so that's out.

Take that, violent muse!

and that is all for now. sometimes i even amuse myself...

from my head... from the heavens?

another poem:

I saw a storm a'dancing,
and light and sound flew from its hands.
Its clouded skirts swirled and roiled,
and bolts of fire-white hair shot out and down,
while its feet roared and rumbled on the ground.
Rain and hail, like scattered cold petals,
fluttered, dropped, down from its bouquet
of water and praise.
For praising it was - a violent Hallelujah!
just as beautiful, loud and true
as any ever marched from throated puny people.
All heaven declares! and dances with joyful abandon.
And as the thunder caught their ears, the trees
flung out their arms, lifting them to join the skies' praise.
Waves lept, rocks skipped, grasses bowed their heads.
All creation, reminded, is subdued and worships,
by their graceful existence and
by their exuberance under the storm-cloud
conductor.

only two more days...

I must survive two days, then it will get better. I hope. This paper is killing me inside. It's mostly that I really haven't a clue where to even start, much less what the finished product ought to look like. So I'm caught in this whirl of too much information and not enough understanding. And it's a one-draft paper, so my one draft needs to be good. At this rate, however, it looks like I will, once again, write it the night before it's due. I can't seem to get started right now.

I'm going stir-crazy! I think I'm going to do other homework right now. I actually feel like doing math! But maybe I should save that for tomorrow when I'm even closer to the brink of insanity. Hmm. I'll save it. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

Right now I just am NOT thinking. My brain isn't even going in circles; it's just stalling. Putt, putt, and... stop. Drat. And turning the key (what key?! I don't even know how to start it again!) isn't turning the engine back on. So what am I to do? I know! Read my NT homework, then pray. At least that way I won't be wasting time. Must. Focus. And. Calm. Myself. Must. Breathe. Slowly. Peace. Need. Do. I.

Right. So off I go.

very good day

Here are some highlights of today:

1. My 8am class got out early. Very early. Our teacher never showed, so we left after half an hour. As a result...
2. I got some extra sleep, after only 3 or 3.5 last night.
3. Discovery was amazing. I walked across a log 25 feet in the air while blindfolded. Wow.
4. Ate dinner with cool people. They put cheerios on straws and fenced with them. Much laughter.
5. Had very good baklava and tea while hearing the story of Odysseus and the Cyclopes.
6. Pretended to be Snow White on a rock just exactly my size.
7. Very good prayer time (while standing on that rock).

And spring is slowly but surely advancing, with more color, leaves and flowers appearing every day. And the geese and ducks and frogs on the pond make a lovely racket. I am tired, but I am calm, and today has been good.

beautiful day and frogs

I sit in my room, with my window open, relishing the finally warming weather. As I sit, a chorus of frogs fills the air with their chirping. Even at this distance from the pond, they are easy to hear. And I love the sound. It sounds like spring and happiness. It makes me think of long green grass, fresh leaves on trees, flowers and light blue skies sprinkled with cotton clouds, and the sun shining warm and benevolent. It is so wonderful for it to be nine o'clock at night, and not already freezing outside.

Spring! So beautiful and fresh and clean! Like dancing faeries pirouetting among the trees, laughing as they play tag with the sunbeams and the ladybugs.

I had jasmine-scented green tea earlier. It smelled like honeysuckle. Oh! I wish I could drink spring! I wonder what it would taste like, feel like? I imagine it would be like sunshine, like rain, like happiness and sweetness and light and color, like glory and joy and hope. I think the river of life with taste a little like spring.

I hope there will be a frog chorus in heaven.

AAAAARRRGGGHHHH!!

I'm really going crazy right now. Must study for a test. I'm tired, I want to go to bed, and I can't think, can't concentrate, cause I've got so much swirling through my grey matter right now. I'm not prepared for the test, though, and I honestly don't see how I will be by tomorrow morning. I'm just going crazy trying to study without knowing how, and knowing that I probably won't remember much, if any, of it tomorrow.

So I'm listening to my crazed/angry music right now, because it keeps me awake and that's what I feel like right now. And I really, really want to run around like Gollum, screeching and growling and generally acting as crazy and horrid and nasty as I feel. I feel like Gollum.

On the bright side, I made it to the top of the climbing wall. My first experience rock climbing, and I did it, so I'm pleased about that. But that was Smeagol. Now I'm Gollum. And I want to bite something...

Maybe I'll make it to sleep before 3...

poem - also from NH

I wandered early in the morning under skies that glowed with solid light
By waxen gilded rushes rising straight from liquid blueness lapping soft;
Thinking slowly, proudly, deeply, watching blackbirds, red-winged, winging by;
I smiled to hear the earthen whispered solitude that washed away the night.

Haiku from Twin Mountain, NH

Birch bark is coral
Pink dipped in irish cream then
Glazed with peach sherbet.

shall we dance?

I wish to dance. I want to whirl across a parquet floor, with long skirts gracefully swirling around me. I want to hear velvet jazz, to drown in satiny music, to immerse myself in its living rhythm. I wish to dance.

I wish for a big, empty room, with large windows overlooking trees and water, with nobody in sight or ear-shot. And me. And music. And I would dance. I would stand before a window, losing myself in the music and the beauty. And I wouldn't think about the "what if someone's watching me?" because nobody would be near.

I wish to dance, to forget people, to sink down, down, into a deep warmth as music washed over and through me, wiping the mustiness from my brain and washing the bitterness from my heart. And it would be just me, and the room, and the view, and the music. And I would dance before the Lord.

And if he chose to send me someone to dance with, someone I could forget about as I drowned in music without offending them, someone not dancing for me, but for God, then we would dance together. We would listen joyfully, not speaking, eyes closed, being thankful for music and smooth floors, and we would dance.

And it would be even better than dancing alone.

from this afternoon...

Snow drops fell, blown down by violent breath
And landed soft, to cover land with whitened death;
Yet death's not done - it merely sleeps to heal
The ground, so tired, now chilled with wintry seal.

Grey wind blew, rushing the flurrying flakes
Into whorls and whirling eddies. It makes
Weary trees, still bearing green, to bow
And feathered branches to twist and shiver now.

Below the ground lie flowers' life-roots hid
In sleep beneath the raging cloudy skies.
They'll rise once more to greet the sun's bright lid
When, glowing, it hovers o'er their yellow eyes.

But, though heat and light embrace the earth
To bring forth its fruit, reveal its worth;
Yet now they darkly rest beyond cold's reach
And ice rules this time: there's time enough for each.

what can I say?

"Tigers wreck the grade curve."

"What's a peck?" "A quick smooch."

"His train of thought is still boarding at the station."

"Our hero regains consciousness at the feet of a sarcastic alien."

"The word 'lost' isn't in our vocabulary." "How about the word 'mommy'?"

I love Calvin & Hobbes.

mmm... coziness

Last night I fell asleep wrapped in fleece blankets and lying on a leather couch in front of a dying fire in a log cabin house. This morning, when I woke up, clouds beyond the trees glowed with fire as the sun slowly climbed the sky. Last night, I stomped down a hill to a bonfire on the edge of a pond. Sparks twisted and spiralled and flew up into the star-sprinkled darkness, leaving trails of flame to score the air. I held my hands towards the burning, relishing the heat stroking my face after the bitter cold had bitten it. All around, faces shone with an orange glow, and I could have watched the flying, dancing sparks for hours. But we climbed back up the hill, and settled in the leather couch before the fire to finish homework.

Earlier, we had amazing lasagna, and salad, then hot cocoa made with milk and English dark chocolate and cream, then homemade lemon meringue pie (which I'd never had before. The lemon was light and perfect). Now, however, it was work time, with the hope hanging overhead that we'd be able to drive back to school soon... But there was a three hour phone call, during which I settled in on the couch to watch the fire's spirit dwindle and fade. To sleep, perchance to dream! I wish I could have stayed there longer. But there was a long drive back in the early morning so I could attend class, and the little log cabin house on the hill in the woods in New Hampshire soon lay miles behind.

a lonely goose

I just went to dinner. And as I left, and began to stroll down the hill, I heard the goose again. Last night, when I walked through the dark and cold to breathe, I heard him. When my cell phone rang, he protested, but I could not see him. Nor could I tell if there were more than one. But just now, when I heard that squawk, I turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of that elusive bird. And I saw him. Just one. One lonely goose, swimming near the edge of the pond, hoarsely calling his throaty complaint. Such a familiar sound. But I've never before been so firmly struck by how lonely a goose's call sounds. How tired, and sad, how pleading, yet with very little hope. One little bird - or at least, he looked small from a distance - floating by himself across an immense slatey pond, pushed and chilled by the wind, with no other goose in sight.

How pitiful to be a goose alone! Surrounded by grey water and sky and trees. I hope he's not as lonely as he appears to be.

foreign policy...

When will we learn to just keep our collective political noses out of other countries' business? I've been reading about Haiti, and it makes me sick. The arrogance! Since when could we force others to do what we think they should? We seem to think that "democracy" is the answer to all political problems (which is idiotic and laughable, considering that we supposedly have democracy yet have an incredibly corrupt and messy political landscape) and that we should install it everywhere else! We're making a mini-me out of every place we can! And it's arrogant and obnoxious. The idea that everyone else should be just like us makes me sick. Any individual who tried to make all their acquaintances into reflections of himself (or herself) would be regarded as... well, let's just say we'd call them names. Prideful, rude, foolish, arrogant bastard... If that is inappropriate behavior for a person, by what logic can we excuse it for a country?

If we truly cared about other people, we would listen to them. We would not lie, or cheat, or use violence or bribery. If someone I care about is making a mess of their life, I won't just stand by and watch them suffer! I'll do what I can to relieve any pain, I'll listen, and I'll tell them my opinions, but I won't force them, and I won't try to hurt them to coerce them into obeying me. It's their decision, not mine. If they want to destroy their life, I cannot and ought not stop them. Nor will I stand by silently.

Americans are incredibly self-centered people. It continually amazes and frightens me. Especially when I find myself slipping into it. We're raised with this idea of our own superiority and our inviolable rights that I find sickening. And we're gullible. And we tend to not think critically before making decisions. And we find value in our material goods, and act like we need everything we can buy, despite the fact that people are starving under our very noses. Hypocrites! Aargh!! Despicable. We are disgusting. Rotting.

What can we do? What will we do? I don't have a complete answer. I know very little, and I understand even less. I don't know what reports are true, and which are false. There's really no way I can know. Eventually I have to trust someone, but who can I trust? I don't trust the American media. I don't trust American politicians. I don't even trust most Americans!

So. What now? What next? ggrrrrr...

iocane powder

so. it is down to you, and it is down to me.

it ends when you choose and we both drink, and we find out who is right and who is dead.

where i come from, there are penalties when a woman lies.

you mock my pain!

i died that day.

as you wish.

from Friday, 16 March...Snow

It snowed almost all day today. Never very hard; mostly small white specks floating and drifting in all directions, slowly making their way to join the soft unbroken carpet below. The ground grew whiter and whiter and deeper. Beautiful. And two days ago it was 70 degrees! Now it's freezing again, and snow lies everywhere. Peaceful and still. Yet my mind cannot rest. I wanted to curl up in a window seat with a notebook and pen, and stare absently out the window, letting myself get caught by the slow falling of the snow, allowing myself to write whenever the muse swirled in from the storm to stroke my thoughts with chilly and unique fingers. But there are no window seats, and there are people in the house, so I spent most of the day watching movies, and standing before the window in between each one, to try to soak as much of the scenery in, to be replayed later, when in a more peaceful, empty and quiet situation. If I had been alone, I could have stood there, staring, for minutes... until the cat purred loudly around my ankles or I got hungry. This house is relatively cold. I think I need more food when it is cold. Takes more to feed the furnace that burns so slowly and too cool deep inside my chest. More fuel for my fire! I am too cold. My heart is frozen and chipped. Someone stoke my fire, melt my heart, and mend it. And find every piece that has broken off and fallen by the road and been absorbed into the ground, and return them all to me. If you cannot do that, then my heart will remain incomplete until something else can be found to replace those pieces I have lost. Perhaps that is why I am always so cold - my heart is incomplete. And a heart is what keeps one warm.

from Thursday, 15 March... A Beautiful Day

Yesterday. Was. A. Beautiful. Day. I don't say this just because the weather was superb, and the sun shone warm through hazy clouds, and the wind blew hard but not cold. Although it WAS warm - at least 70 degrees! It was just a pleasant day to be outside.

Liz and I went out to Parcel B with a camera, and wandered around taking pictures of trees and puddles and each other being weird. It was warm and beaufiful, and the camera was good, and we talked and walked and had a good time. And now I've got a bunch of pictures.

A bunch of people sat on the Great Lawn outside of West Hall in the afternoon. I joined them for a time. A few were playing frisbee, and tossing a softball. Someone had brought out an extension cord, so several had their laptops plugged in, while sitting on a blanket on the grass. ANd the wind blew, but it was comfortable. It felt strange, though, since there was so much moisture in the air; it almost felt like a very cool summer day. Summer! Why does it feel like summer in March? But I won't complain, because it was so pleasant to not be freezing. And when the sun occasionally broke through the clouds, it felt warm.

Then I packed my stuff, tried to find people to say goodbye to, ate dinner, said some more goodbyes, and left. Left the hugs, the old movies, the pokes, the cheery words and laughs, the busy people, the fuseball, the friends, the place that holds too many memories for me to understand... And as we drove away, the clouds began to cry.

I will return. I promise.

Curiouser and curiouser...

Curiosity is a sucker. And I'm full of is; therefore, I am a sucker. The truth of the matter is that, no matter how much I tell myself I've learned to accept not understanding things, I have not. If I feel something is below me (which I admit I ought never to feel, but I do. Silly elitist me...), then I do not might not understanding. It is not worth knowing. But if I feel like I do not understand something that is on par or above me, that is irksome. I willingly admit that I am not gifted at understanding people. Really, they quite confuse me. BUT, if I'm perfectly honest, I understand at least a little. Probably more than I'll admit. I just don't want to say I understand then be proved wrong. So when I come across someone who I cannot fathom, someone I just plain do NOT understand, this bothers me. Perhaps it oughtn't, but it does. Especially... oh dear. Fascination is not permitted. "Not the light!" "I can't help it; it's so beautiful!" That's what fascination is - something you know you don't want to follow, but which draws you inexorably in anyway. Yar. I feel like if I just understood a bit more - if I understood even the smallest bit - then I could stop being so curious. But this being clueless? I can't just let it go! At least with ideas I don't understand, I think about them, research them, figure out what I do and do not know. I have a vague outline. But in this situation, I haven't even got that. No outline. No shadows. Nothing. And, by golly, I want to know!

I don't need to know. It wouldn't necessarily be good for me to know. I have been warned. I have heard the stories. I have read books. I ought to be prepared. But perhaps all those authors of horrid, cheesy romance stories do know a thing or two about a "direct gaze" and mystery. Why is it so doggone difficult to let mysteries remain mysterious? Why are they so much like black holes?

Alright, time to think about something else. I should go wander and find some hugs to distract me. After all, I'm out of school for a week; I should stop thinking about school-related things. Blechh.

pinocchio bound

Pinocchio in Chains...

pinocchio's profile in deepest shadow,
bound by lies of his own foolish making,
warns messengers of gloomy darkness
that evening stars are slowly, quickly shaking
the dripping sullen walls, while armless
statues draped in white marble robes
are cracking underneath a sky
streaked with dust from falling stars of gold.

falsehoods in chains! no truth is found
when foggy swirls writhe in between the trees,
twitch the leaves and chill the air
despite the twisting flames that burned the seas,
once so deep, now fired dry,
filled with rotting bones and salted weeds;
no life is left, all breath is gone,
taken and used for selfishness' needs.


right... umm. that's what came out. interesting. 'twas inspired by something that looked like pinocchio, in profiled shadow, in chains. hmm.

oh the brilliance...

Last night, I went on another adventure, to one of my all-time favorite destinations: Olin! It was FWOP's final showing of one of the most brilliant shows, The Importance of Being Earnest. I enjoyed it. Great dry, mocking humor, frighteningly good and disconcerting costumes, and some marvelous acting. And all for only five dollars!

So that was goodness. And there are only three more days of classes before Spring Break. And today was good. I went to a professor's house for "coffee and conversation" on women in philosophy. She's a philosophy professor, and it was a group of girls, and we ate and drank and talked and laughed. Good times. Then I had dinner at yet another professor's house; very good pasta and bread and conversation about heaven and hell and other random things. So now I ought to finish my homework. But it feels much later than it actually is, and I wish to take a nap. I will resist, however. Math is calling...

something i just wrote...

Sliding through her dreams at night,
He's always there somewhere,
near the edge,
half shadowed, half bright,
barely beyond her fingers' reach.
When evil creatures, which spew
poison
and oil
to make her slip
slink and creep into her mind
to frighten sleep, when
they scream and she fears,
he is there, all
in black,
ready to rescue
but
never in time, and
teeth that shine with dripping slime
close over fatigue and
prick her suddenly awake
to see darkness and
to turn and
weep until her pillow, drenched,
weeps too.

aaahhhhhhhhhh!!

Wow. Yesterday there was a comedy show here. Somebody from VH1 (Pete Homes) who just so happens to be a Gordon alum... It was hilarious. It has been quite some time since I've laughed so much, so long and so hard. And it was free. I enjoyed myself immensely. So that was good.

It's been somehow a fatiguing week. Still too cold. And too windy. I've had a lot on my mind, especially pertaining to this summer and my future after that. Things like a special major (maybe) or a special minor, and maybe thinking about grad school. I've always assumed I couldn't go - at least not right away - because I have no money. But if I could find a good fellowship, I might be able to do it. And that is something I might enjoy. So now I'm trying to plan the next three or so years of my life, especially the next two, in addition to doing school and trying to spend time with people, and managing to just stay sane. This is all much more difficult that it should be. Especially since I still have no idea what I'm even going to do this summer! Grrr...

So I'm worn out, worn down, like butter spread too thin... And spring break is coming up, which could be an opportunity to rest, but I don't even know what I'm doing for that! I can't stay on campus, but I don't know where I'm going. I need to find out soon. Really, I just need to go somewhere. I'm getting antsy. I've been stationary too long. I'm getting the fidgets. I'm getting to the point where I want to jump and run in circles and slam my fist into trees or violently splash through waves or puddles, or just randomly punch people in the stomach... Ah, Moby Dick! I wish to methodically knock men's hats off, as he talks about... damp, drizzly November in my soul. My innards are getting twitchy.

I need something! Something! But I'm not quite sure what. I need some good hugs...

w00t!

I now have computer speakers! My music doesn't sound horrible. I no longer need to use headphones to hear the bass. This pleases me muchly.

And I bought food. And I ate yumminess (not dining hall food!) for dinner. Mmm beef.

So things are great.

dies irae, dies illa, solvet saeclum in favilla

If you have never heard Mozart's Requiem, then you need to. I just did. Live. And I cannot do it justice. I loved it. It drowned me, like the best music does. This alone is reason enough for me to accept that Mozart, whatever his faults, was a musical genius. I feel full, fed, covered, wonderful. It's the sort of thing that is beautiful pain. I forget to breathe. I cannot move. I just stare and drink the sounds. Especially the massive choruses, with the timpani and everything else. It fills the room, swallows me, is just plain wonderful. I hate the clapping at the end - it spoils the moment. After that last chord, there should be silence, to honor it, to drink it in. No clapping, at least not for a while. No clapping to cloud the memory. No clapping to ruin the feel, to throw the soul back down to the ground. Just silence, still ringing with the echoes of beauty and power. Just silence, filled with nothing but a memory of ecstasy. Just silence, to do homage to something glorious. Just silence, in which to draw in a slow breath to remind oneself that one is still on earth.

Too bad people wouldn't like the idea of a Requiem at a wedding. They use it for funerals; they should use it for mine, except then I'll be dead, and won't be able to hear it. So it should be at my wedding - not all of it, only some. But enough.

hate instead of love

I. Hate. Valentine's. Day.

There, I've said it. It's quite simple, actually. On the day when our commercial/consumerist culture says we should be thinking about red flowers, red candy, red everything, dinners, smooches, and all that jazz, I am thinking about smashing all of it. ALL. I hate how it's everywhere. Even if you want to pretend it doesn't exist, you can't help but see it. Yar. This is a long-standing pet peeve of mine. I cannot remember ever actually liking Valentine's Day. Perhaps someday, if I ever have a significant other, I won't mind it so much. But for now, my feelings towards it are quite simple: somebody take a knife and a gun and a lead pipe and any other weapon they can find and destroy it.

I must confess something, though. Yesterday, at our Princess Bride reading, there was paper and scissors and stuff, for the making of cards... and I made some. *gasp* But it's ok. They aren't Valentine's cards, per say; they're special - my own little stab at the mushiness. And it was fun to make something, especially since they turned out well. Especially the pretty black bats...

In other news, it snowed today! Then sleeted - which was quite painful, as it felt like small rocks were striking my face - then rained. So now there's slush and ice. My evening class got cancelled. Everybody's hoping tomorrow's classes also get cancelled. A friend and I braved the cold rain and slippery sidewalks to go to the dining hall and get a pizza to bring back for dinner. 'Twas quite the adventure. Mission accomplished. That was a good pizza. And I got to splash in slushy puddles! There's nothing else that cheers quite like splooshing through water in blue-striped rain boots...

reflecting in the water

Have you ever noticed how "silence" is such a peaceful, calming word?

No wind, no sound, no distraction. But not emptiness, either. Silence is such a beautiful thing. Silence, peace, ice, water, wind, trees, leaves, stones, forest, sky, rain, snow, light, music... rest.

Cool, challenging quote from somebody named Unamuno: "Those who believe they believe in God, but without passion in the heart, without anguish of mind, without uncertainty, without doubt, and even at times without despair, believe only in the idea of God, and not in God himself."

completely random

something in me wants to write. i don't care much what, just so long as it's something. and, oddly, for once i feel like writing something random here. so. my foot hurts. it started bothering me monday, i think because i wore those boots all day, which i never do. grr. and i'm tired. i took a short nap this afternoon because i was so exhausted. and the sad part is that it's nearly 1 am and i'm still awake. if i'm this worn out, then why don't i just go to bed and sleep like i want to? it doesn't make sense. i don't make sense.

rainbow lights flicker and die
snowflakes white settle and melt
heartbreaks deep weep, moan and sigh
and never another knows what was felt

sunbeams backlight floating dust
misty fogs swirl through the trees
rising from falling remains a must
we demand from the blind what he sees

heaven's glow reaches out of space
hellfire's heat hides in dark shame
glory bright reveals my empty face
and from the void a voice calls my name

good weekend...

this weekend, i went on an adventure. it went so well that i am more determined than ever to repeat it more often. 'tis good to see old friends.

it snowed friday night. then i went on a walk in the woods saturday afternoon. the ground still shone whitely, and crunched noisily under my feet. the snow sitting on the tree branches had mostly been turned to ice under the sun's influence. the air was still cold enough that it didn't just melt off. so i passed a bush whose every branchlet shone under an accent of ice. it was beautiful. i've seen pictures of such things, but can't remember actually seeing it before. i wanted to just stand there and drink of the scene, but it was cold and windy, so i kept walking to maintain a little body heat. then i crunched my way down the road to the pond. all the plants along the edge were bowed down the slope, and on every one of them lay a ridge of bright ice. down in the pond stood some grasses with fluffy heads, also frosted with white that glistened in the sunlight. it nearly took my breath away. this is what i like about winters here. even when nothing is green, when the shrubs are bare and the grasses bent and the trees skeletal, just a touch of water and some cold air create spectacular extravaganzas, with sparkles rivaling the mot expensive diamonds. no painter could do justice to the scene; no words can properly convey its appearance. this world continually amazes me. so beautiful, so beyond imagination. i am honored to live here. i am so glad that i can see. oh, the wonder of it all!

another poem.

another random poem. i wrote it very very late last night. a couple weeks ago, on my way up to new hampshire, we passed this cliff with frozen waterfalls on it. i'd never seen anything like it before, so i made note. i had written down the words "tears, ice, wait, falling" and also "hope, help" beneath. and i was looking at it last night, and wrote a sonnet. so here tis:
Frozen Waterfalls:

An ice veil freezes close to granite rock
Of the barren cliff-side. White and cold
It glows under the lonely moon, and off
Its glimmering folds fall watered tears annulled.
Black behind the brightness peers gloomy through
A stony face that swallows light alive
And hides the night sky from my searching view,
Although the falling stars from behind it rise.
Below I wait, in darkness, with a wind
Rising chill at my back, whistling with pain
And sorrow. I shiver. And hope rescinds
Its claim on my frozen thought without a name.
Across the paths of light above my head
My heart, crying, to death is slowly led.

So, yeah. It sounds a bit scary; don't worry, there's nothing wrong with me. But poetry I write late at night tends to sound melancholy. It was also nearly dark when we drove past the waterfalls, so they were glowing in the last light of day, glowing white against the dark. Quite beautiful, actually. In my creative writing class, one of the things we read mentioned that most authors have favorite words that appear in most of their poetry... I don't think the words I use are cheerful. Maybe that's because words like "cold" and "sorrow" and "dark" and "alone" just sound nice. Maybe my brain is a little twisted inside. Maybe I just need to write in more cheerful, brightly lit surroundings. Not that it matters much, though. Poetry doesn't have to be happy. Nothing does, really. Ummm... but don't worry about me; I'm fine. I'm actually doing quite well. And I must say I like the way "glimmering folds fall watered tears annulled" sounds. Pretty.

strange poem

for my creative writing class, we were told to write a poem of nonsense, using so many words from a list... rather an odd way to be inspired, but it worked. quite unexpectedly. i'm still not certain how i came up with this, but somehow, strange as it sounds, it's ok. at least, i think so. The meter and form also were dictated, and punctuation and rhyme restricted.

To say the mud is wavering
Requires a certain solitude,
For never in a crowd of rocks
Can reason free itself from you,
Nor drop and stop to swing around
And blow belief up to the roof.

The frogs, all blue, are cutting quick
Through folds and rolls of leather -
Using waves of frost as slaves,
Bruising sound and letters.
They hop then chop then turn to sing
Of snow that covers treasure.

My eye is throbbing sharp and cold
As waters come to bite my feet,
To fly through skies painted in red
Then fall, by call, down to the deep
Deep chasms neath the leather pile
And there rest, waiting, for my sleep.

I pitch my tent to bruise the ground
And tell important tales of woe -
All ears should hear my throat's lament
Although they all have thoughts their own -
For underneath my broken feet
It waits to take us all to ruin.

in other news, yesterday was bitter cold. cold, and windy. the atmosphere felt sheer, as if all space could blow its way past the surface of my skin. my nose felt as if it would crack, and pieces fall to the ground and shatter. i stayed inside as much as i could. and reminded myself never to go to antarctica.

i begin to feel twitchy. this makes me want to eat. peanut butter and crackers before bed? then some poetry - shelley or keats, perhaps. or elizabeth barrett browning, since that's homework. ah, what shall i ever do with myself once i leave academia?

God doesn't knit OR crochet... He snows

it's snowing.

as we walked to dinner, a few small pieces of white floated, barely visible under the lamplight, through the cold air. 'twas exciting, for tiny as they appeared, they heralded the possibility of many more. when i left dinner to head to class, they were a bit larger, and easier to see, but still merely a teaser. i sat through my hour and a half of class, which wasn't bad at all - certainly warmer than being outside - then climbed the stairs to see a world shielded by a lacy white shawl. where my feet touched the ground, they left black scars behind. the snow fell thicker, and larger, and slower then. most beautiful it was. i shivered my way across the quad, my feet slipping on the crunching ice and grass frozen in twisted and matted shapes, then entered a disappointingly cool theater. the movie was quite good, actually. amistad. very moving. and after that two and a half hours, the world's veil was drawn more tightly and more solidly across its face. and still the snow fell.

of course, by now it may have stopped. but i saw it start, and ambled through its freezing falling beauty. it took a mug of hot chocolate and fuzzy fleecy pants to warm me back to my normal temperature, but who cares? we finally have snow! after all the cold weather, there's something to show for it. and who wouldn't put up with some inconvenience and pain and shivers to see something - be in something - that glorious?

death and the cold

since my last post two more people back home have died. one i knew, the other i didn't. both were young. one was only a freshman in high school, i think, and it was a hit-and-run. almost exactly three years since jesse died, another wrestler... only this one got hit by a car instead of being in one. but still... almost seems unreal.

i'm back in mass now, and it's COLD. very cold. apparently it was warm over break, but now that school's starting again, the temperatures have plummeted. but, despite that, i think this will be a good semester. i'm looking forward to my classes, and i should be able to do well.

there's so much inside that is trying to climb out, but for now, i cannot think of how to say them. so i will attempt to continue to organize and understand and hopefully remain sane. may God grant me patience with myself.