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...