Snow Day Part 2 (Em and Britt are still playing Uno)

"Oh, you mean 'Uno' is having the whole deck?"

An hour later, we've all beaten Andy. Looks like he'll be rubbing his own feet tonight. Much like Mario Kart and Cranium, we've all come to hate each other a bit during the game.

And no matter how many times I brush off my car and turn up the heat, I will always need Emeline for that literal extra boost. :-)

I'm really excited to be in a play again. I'm not so excited about turning twenty-two, but I can handle it. It all evens out, my friend!

Reason #281 why you know you're a gymnast

How to utilize a snow day:

"I know what I'll do! I'll go to the hospital!" Tanya bounds out of the den with renewed vigor and a potentially fractured back.

"Yeah, I should probably get my ribs x-rayed..." Brittany muses.

"Ooh! Anyone want to come?" Tanya calls. "I can study! This is great!"

Well, why not?

I find ice

One by one they drop off to sleep and the frigid hour freezes pathways, makes them smooth for gliding.

I stream my thoughts. I slip through.

September becomes December and green leaves freeze white. Choked. The season shifts rapidly like a bell curve of dramatic deviations, amazing and disheartening. White softens more starkly than gray.

When it becomes this cold, can you still feel the pulse?

I can.

I should still be falling with them but I'm falling on my own. Flakes fly like peaceful bullets and I can't look away. I am mesmerized. Penetrate me, shock me.

I sink into snow, I move, I find ice, I move.

This is how it should be.

It is cold outside and I said no.

I am starting to know what I want, or at least starting to see what I can do.

A kiss to send us off

You'll never take me alive.

Nothing will be the same, really.

"You look healthier." I do? "Yeah, you looked tired before."

Perhaps. And perhaps it's all right to show the strain sometimes.

But I prefer to be happy. I find signs in black and starless nights.

alone but alive

I feel calm this time. The stars are kind. The night is warm and I feel all right.

I believe that I can walk without falling down.

conversations before 4:11

It's 3:45 a.m. and I know that this is more important than stumbling home wasted, than sleeping, than having an extra hour to work on a paper.

There may not be a point in this, but what's the point in that?

For no reason at all, we begin to laugh. I used to be hyperaware of my location at all times but I finally feel comfortable enough to lay my head down and listen think wonder be still.

These questions taunted me when I was twelve and they are no easier at twenty-one. I still feel like a girl instead of a woman I'm still little when I stand in the crowd but at least the person next to me asks these questions too.

Humans need to make make meaning and this is how we can: by connecting with someone else for a moment - an hour - a century - without money resentment anger excuses . . .

You told me once to write something meaningful and maybe now I have an idea, maybe know why you kept telling me -- maybe meaning is something that glows in a dark place.

..

I woke up happy this morning because I'd dreamt that you were finally ready to be vulnerable with me.

September at the lake

The rain falls quietly here.

Cell phones are silent.

I wonder if you will miss me today.

anticipated ambivalence

It comes to the point where -
I don't know how to say anything that hasn't already
circled in and through and back again and tightened me
within my own words
until I start to think that choking is just
another way to be numb.

I rub water and mineral onto my hands
and wonder if I have unlearned, know how to
unlearn, know only that
whatever I imagine will not
come to pass - perhaps the sword instead,
or the wound, or
nothing at all.

I do not think that you have unlearned.

my life as a collage

My goal this year, it seems, is to change my life as much as possible -- to dart in every other direction and loop back another way -- to collect words and stories where I am the character and not just the observer -- to know, not just believe -- to be there instead of willing it to be so.

And then I will slow my run to a walk, take these still-simmering pieces
put them together -- and I will be me still, this one,
just with more color and something else, yes, something more.

Oh, Spanish!

This is horrendous, but we've all got to start somewhere, right? :-p

Cuando me voy en el día,
escucho la voz del viento;
dice, “Sigo lo que siento.”
Sí, es lo que yo querría…

Cuando por la noche vuelvo,
sigo la senda del cielo
tan clara; ni nieve ni hielo
el sentimiento disuelve.

..
Durante la clase:

La pregunta: "I have a really strange question about Cuernavaca. Would you feel safe going for a run around the neighborhood? I'm sort of exercise-psychotic."
La repuesta: "Are you fast? Then yes."

I stood at the desk later this cold afternoon and thought, Tengo que seguir mi propio destino.

not much of anything, but a

collage of the songs pulsing through my head these past days weeks months (as compiled during a discussion of th(o)roughlines):


doesn't come down when she calls it's time for breakfast will you or won't you be the one i'll always know i hope you always forgive and you never regret i'm following myself just this once and at all once the crowd begins to sing like falling in love feels for the first time and you see that i can't stop shaking collapse into me tired with joy what you feel is what you are and i've rocked them all she's bad and she knows you will consume me but i can't walk away i like you just the way you are more than you know if your body matches what your eyes can do fitting you with weapons in the form of words this feels stranger than truth i cannot forget the way i feel right now we'll all float on shine on you were meant to crank that kept in the dark but you were there in front of me vivo en una casa roja she asks when will i be free.

View from the kitchen

I see:

Napoleon Dynamite. Kitchen:

Central City Bar & Grill.

Save 50 cents. Price Chopper.

(on a paper towel)
Mama!
We were
here! We
fuckin love you!
My concussion is good! I
was happy 2 see you 2day! Jess
says hi. She is gay!
See you soon!
Love your
babies!
Hi Am
Tan & Di!!


(magnetic poetry)
you only have tequila and food

drink more & inhale easy drunk boy

To consider:

"The flame on your back."

Well, how can I be out of character if this is the only character I've got?

Mere notes

I wrote it down - "catalyst - not crutch."

To do: Watch more movies. Improve at video games. Read more books. Know more about just about everything, especially randomness. Be smarter, more creative, stronger.

The perks of being on club: premiere parking at 7:30 p.m. (Or later, knowing me.)

"Tenemos que hacer algo." (Bailar, por supuesto.)

It would be cool if I could eat full meals and had interest in food besides chocolate.

"Thank you for being exactly like me."

I have so many questions that, even if I knew that I would like your answers, I wouldn’t know where to begin.

I've got a lot to say today

First, quotes from others:

You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait, just learn to become quiet, and still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet. - Franz Kafka


...que tomo, en el peligro de verte,
la vida, cuando te oigo.

I take my life in my hands when, on the dangerous occasion of seeing you, I listen to you.
-Frondoso, Lope de Vega's Fuenteovejuna

A real wind blows

A real wind blows tonight as I make that now-habitual brisk walk over the sidewalk.

Through laughs and long hours. Apathy and intensity. Cookie dough ice cream for dinner, "She's, like, old," conversations that feel right and others that just are. There is something I should be doing and it's not being done or said, and I feel all right with that until the morning.

But there is something I want to tell you, and I haven't.

The wind knows.

The world I am living in right now is not real.

passing time

"Seriously, if I don't have a crush on you, you're doing something wrong." - Rachel's outlook on males


A non-haiku of my least favorite expressions:
Fine. That's what she said.
Whatever. You don't even know.
Heh. You would.


"You'll have a black belt in writing. Don't mess with me; I'll write about you."

How would you define "craft"?

..

She touches the lightning.
Her face is serene.

..

All I know is

that I do not want this relentless momentum to stop.

Capitán

He approaches the burning bridge. The soldiers turn from tossing branches onto the sizzling entrance. A post crumbles.

"We've got it under control, Capitán," one man says.

He watches another post fall -- the last tall structure. Then he nods and walks away, slowly, off stage.

Someone raises champagne to him later and he smiles slightly when someone else cracks open a beer instead. He sleeps with someone else and burns a bit. Not as much as he'd thought. It doesn't really matter.

He drives to work the next day and a small, staticky song plays. He'd made her shake and crumble to this song. Once and many times. He had burned. Once and many times.

He switches stations for a song with clear and cold anger.

"We've got it under control, Capitán," one man says.

He nods, slowly, and walks off stage.

Decisive

I know what I need to do.

October 19

Today started well. I backed out of the driveway with one sideview mirror, around cars and past chain-link fences, as if I knew what I was doing.

Today ended well. I don't care if I give too much of myself away right now. I want to be fascinated. I want to really laugh. And to do so, something has to be placed outside of me.

But the night is warm.

I feel all right.

I had hoped for a better sort of morning

I looked at the gray sky over the houses and realize that the only thing that can be done is to create something beautiful.

At some point, I started to relax. I bounced a bit to the music as we chatted.

I can do this, I think.

It's not the place, she said.

It's not about where you are. It's about the person. It's who you are.

encuentro o conquista?

And you give yourself away.

smooth.

It's nice to know after that after these years of relearning what you were never taught, someone notices that you're doing something correctly.

I feel good about that. I feel good about this choice.

Not about the walking, though. I feel the pull of my shins as my legs move briskly. The shadows touch me uncomfortably. I want to get home.

I still think about walking around the corner.

The jig is up

First off, this video = amazing.

Maybe in one week or six I'll be in for a rude jolt. But I'm ready to reveal myself at the time they shout, "Retreat!"

I make my own choices. I choose not to hide.

Thoughts on looking up Dali paintings at the library:

I'll likely make changes, but I like this ending:
He awakens in water, in soft rivers running over his body that whisper in a language he can almost understand.

I want to be considered "incomparable."

A wonderful way to begin the day:

"I like A."
"A is not a number."

After some awful line about dogs shitting razors (thank you, Liz!):
"Holy God, can you imagine that pain?"
"Embrace it."

"I'll never forget hearing this song live."

I wanted you to be uneased
I wanted you to linger
I want you to agree with me
I want you on my side

C'mon and lay it down
I've always been with you here and now
Give all that's within you
Be my savior,
and I will be your downfall.

and later...

Now I'm back on my own
Hear my feet, they're made of stone
Man, I make you go where I go
Well, hell, you, can I take you home?

[Mike will cheer at this song, I know.]

schemes

And that's what I want to do: try them. Not out of desperation, but curiosity.

told to.

"You are an extraordinary woman."

pensamientos espanoles

[De un texto sobre Sor Juana]:
"Su pluma fue su arma mas poderosa."

[De la obra de teatro El muerto disimulado]:
Clarindo: "Viene a ser que de una ausencia
quien mas siente el golpe fiero,
quien se queda or quien se va?"

Clarindo: "Pues ausente no vivo con quien quiero,
y dejo de asistir donde queria,
con que es de quien se va el mal mas fiero."

Lisarda: "Te burlas y me das chasco?
No me hables en hermosuras,
sino en coriscos, en rayos,
en fierezas, en rencores,
en pasiones, en enfados,
en pesadumbres, en iras,
en furores, en estragos,
que la colera mi pecho
hizo un incendio en que ardo."

Clarindo: "Si amor tiene de ensenarme,
vamos a estudiar, ingenio,
para dar en la salida
de mi amante desempeno."

overheard

[potty humor]
While walking past Amber's room:
"I just farted. Don't stand up."

While conditioning:
"Kelly, your foot is in my face."
"Oh. I almost just peed on you."

[existential humor]
While on Tumble Track:
Angela: "The thing is, I may go invisible or sign off --"
Alyssa, the team philosopher: "You can go invisible?"
Angela: "I'm talking about AIM, sweetie, not in real life."

September

This month has gone on for too long.

the juncture

Here I am. Between joy and distress. Between experiments and essays. Between the fantastic and the ordinary. Between reckless and harbor.

In that ages-old battle against the patriarchy, the woman takes up the pen.

the makings of an experiment

This could be your “experiment”:
You ever have that problem where you start writing a poem but by the time you get to line 3 you ask yourself what the fuck are you doing, and why are you writing poetry?

[Is he going to be a nomad?]
[If you don’t want to shack up with him]
[I knew that’s what you were gonna say]

I mean that is a truly profound idea.

[Am I following?]
[Not quite]

You don’t even know what a sordid sad tale that is

[Maybe four glasses of wine
on a Tuesday night
wasn’t a good isea.
Idea. Wednesday.
Whatever.]


Well, I actually have to know them.
Well, take that idiotic shit out and I still would have known what you meant.

"You know what I'm going to do tomorrow? I'm going to look at my notes about these poems. 'Rhyme.' Great." My book's open on the counter and so's my foot.

"Mmm." Emeline looks for something to eat.

I begin talking about the Dirty War in Argentina. She nods.

"OOOH!" I point to the text. "Here we go. The role of nature. I got it. Ready? The wind blows this paper to her feet, and it changes her life. That's what I'm going to use!"

Emeline nods, looking very nervous.

"I know, Em," I answer. "You're jealous that you can't be a Spanish major. Follow your calling!"

She backs away.

Oh, Em, I'm glad that you love me unconditionally. :-D

Lazarillo de Tormes...

It occurs to me that you and I might be doing the exact same things right now.

I could find out, but not yet. Not tonight.

more college living

You become indifferent to the lack of food. You'll figure something out. Bread's acceptable for breakfast and lunch, and pasta provides a luxurious dinner.

And after days of paper towels, you are really, really excited to see a roll of toilet paper in the bathroom.

"on all fours"

After all of the events of the past several weeks/weekends,
I've concluded that I have no idea what's going to happen.
And I find that I just might be all right with the wait and see.

What I Read At Raquette

For anyone who cares!

I call this creative nonfiction. Because, well, it's true.

5.8/9.9.07 – Still.

My eyes burn. I step outside into cool night air. There is no breeze. The smoke from downstairs is subdued and the laughter calming from drunkenness to tiredness.

I want to smudge my eyes with dark eyeliner and look at you behind masked and falsely thick lashes. It might feel right.

But nothing will happen tonight.

It is a May night and the sun will burn this summer. I will write every day. I will laugh and you won’t laugh with me. People will die. I will dance.

Right now I am doing none of those things.

Right now the wooden seat creaks and I'm too tired to wonder how many people have sat in it before. Probably laughing. Probably drunk. At 11:30 there’s not much to view. Scattered students stumble over sidewalks. A car comes to the corner, slows, passes, silence.

For once in my life I am at the perfect height. Up here on the balcony, I can witness it all without needing to stand on my toes.

Otherwise I type in small windows so I can see what is going on.

There is a light on in your window, I know.

I would not usually be so vague, but there is nothing specific to say. I would like someone to come around the corner and up this shadowy road. I would like them to wave to me. Call my name. Sit up here with me for awhile, in silence.

Because I've done enough work. I would like to be amazed right now. I would like to be engaged, fascinated. To one day do the kind of work that makes me eager to be where I am with who is there. And perhaps we’ll have a conversation worth remembering. Worth thinking about. Worth continuing.

It won’t be right now.

The traffic light flashes red and yellow.

I type in small windows to remind myself of perspective.

It is time to sleep, I tell myself, and go into bed, but not to bed.

I want to walk down the road and around the corner.

I'm probably going to regret not doing ANY work for the past two hours

For a certain young lady with whom I just conversed with about love and life:

In some way -- most likely a haphazard, unexpected, and wonderful one -- you will get precisely what you deserve, which is the best. :-)

Stranger than fiction

Gary: "Carmen, are you a citizen yet?"

Carmen: "No. I've applied, though."

Gary: "Well, if you need to marry me to become a citizen, let me know."

Angela: "BWAHAHAHA!!!!!!!"

An update due to popular demand :-)

What I learned while watching The Mission:
Deaf people can't get handcuffed.

..

Raquette Lake was amazing. Precisely what I needed. I shall post photos soon, although they are not nearly as deep and terrific as what Rachel has posted on Facebook.

Some favorite quotes/moments:
After crashing the international bonfire
Steve: "So where are YOU from?"
Guy: "Rochester, New York."

Steve: "So are you miserable?"
Me: "Depends."
Steve: "Like diapers?"

Andy: "I fuckin' love my mom!"

What Rachel and I heard...that should not be typed.

Pat: "Can you do back flips?"

The tarot card reading. Whoa.

I read a piece that I posted on May 8, for anyone who wishes to delve into the archives. I changed it a bit. Contemporized it, if you will. The feelings hold true. It's not something I'd normally read out loud, and for a larger audience, I'd choose humor instead. But it was right for the time.

"You two are spectacular," Dr. Boynton told me as we kayaked on Raquette Lake at 7 a.m.

Thank goodness the radio worked on the way home!

And that we got voicemails from Dr. Reid.

..

And that some things will not change.

(Today is a multi-entry sort of day)

Dear Angie Baby,

Thank you for faithfully reading this blog.

For all SUNY Cortland athletes:

Please refrain from making out with your beloved, whether they are your gender or not, at team functions. Otherwise, you may be subjected to "constant observation."

And to the one and only Denise Wiesner,

Thank you for the spectacular CD you sent to Brittany that includes "Can't Touch This."

Love,
DiGal

La verdad:

"...Aun cuando ama la poesia, el cielo no le dio la gracia de ser poeta."

Awesome word:

cybersquatting.

All I really wanted to do tonight was write.

I find it a bit awkward to do so. It's a bit too much wear my heart on your sleeve with far less answers. At least the bands who sing such lyrics receive cheers.

Even in a house like this, the night ended quickly tonight. I might be the only one left awake, and I'll turn in soon enough.

But I can be here -- myself, my work-in-progress room, my work-in-progress life -- and not be ashamed of the company.

tense change

She noticed later that red stained the gray sweatshirt. The tribulations of hair dye.

The advice came across the cheap Formica table. "You do too much work." Perhaps. "Drink while doing laundry. It's a great time." Hmm. Especially if you don't need to go to college to be a writer.

"Did you dye your hair?" Dunkin Donuts lighting is most certainly unforgiving.

She plays with the still-damp bangs and wonders what else she can begin to get away with.

"Your earrings are like...sorcery."

Well, perhaps not, but she'll work on making her writing such.

The Nasty Life

Gary: "...So I reacted as I usually do."
Angela and I in unison: "Very calmly and rationally?"

Me: "I'm going to the bathroom. Let me know if he says anything about Mayans."
Moments later:
Amber: "He just said that the plot is thickening. You'd better get out, Diana."

After reading out loud my away message:
Amber: "I am nervous! Estoy nerviosa! ... I think something's wrong with me."



And the people we become, well,
they're never really the people who we are.

I think it may be time to realize that this is not going to be the way I want it to be.

I like this:

"In my opinion, karma will be a bigger bitch than I'd ever be."

Hey, baby, is that you? Wow, your hair got so long...

Between last year and now, the clash has become more evident: that I feel like a different person in both places.

The energy remains the same. But not always the outlook and attitude. What changes most is the reality. I don't know which one will last, or which one I want to.

--

But I do know that 1) Christina is fantastic for sending me multitudes of songs, and that despite trees being chopped at 7 a.m., 74 Lincoln = Can't touch this!

Well, it's the last day of August

and I've only changed my schedule once.

And written an "experimental piece" in about an hour (muchas gracias, Pablo Murray).

And felt that life was full, and constantly moving, not passive.

And named our wireless network, "Can't touch this."

And twisted on my own as if it were nothing.

And been happy. Am happy. Still so, in fact.

And known that I need to keep moving, living, writing, learning, before I can plant myself down in one place.

A little:

sick, nervous, stressed, sad, excited, confident, and yet a good part satisfied.

It's that time, of course, to write a letter.

It is cold.

It is cold.

The rain strikes closed eyes, pricks the skin, but captures the trees in green.

It is time, the tired wind says. Time to see flurries on light gray days. Time to miss you like end-of-day sunshine, so simple and beautiful.

Phoenix

I like to check off the skills I've done and the body parts I've hurt.

Then I do those skills again. And again.

By choice.

He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
--W.B. Yeats--

The feeling's mutual.

Isn't it lovely to realize that the people you stalk on occasion stalk you back?

We're just too damn curious, all of us.

The next pool party

Of course I think I ate too many s'mores, but it was just a right kind of night -- friends around the fire pit, laughing as the night dries us after a failed game of "Marco Polo," together without pressure or pause, a Long Island night.

Hair

I measured my loose ponytail on Saturday and found that it reached the requisite ten inches.

"Should I donate my hair now?" I asked my parents.

My mom looked at me. "...It's up to you."

"It'll grow back," my dad reasoned.

Confidence.

556

"You cannot love God but hate your neighbor."

If today you hear God's voice, /
harden not your heart.

Confession/Want/Dreams

I really enjoy Timbaland's "The Way I Are."

..

I want to:
-travel
-write creatively
-write professionally
-learn
-teach
-work with children
-stay free
-stay healthy
-stay involved with gymnastics
-be qualified to do anything I fancy
-get married. stay married. and love.
-afford to live wherever I find myself
-raise children that don't frustrate me.
-change the world, somebody's world, in a good way
-be remembered
-finally, maybe, be satisfied with this life

..

Forget dreams, something said. You're too scared to leave.

I don't think so, I answered.

..
Which I'd almost forgotten...

Lift my days,
light up my nights

"You know what makes me happy?

You'll think it's really random and dorky."

"What?"

"The fact that you're doing fulls again."

Aww, Meghan! :-)

Sound Road

Sometimes I raise my hand outside of the rolled-down window. I do not signal. I do not wave.

I feel the air, let my fingers run through it,

then take the wheel again.

I will sit and earn the ransom from up here

The day: long grass, hot sun, port-a-potties that don't flush (which should be outlawed), Sudoku, the Hobbit, sleeping, parks near the Interstate, old friends, riding deer, fired up and letting up.

I know it will all turn for the best eventually, but I am wistful right now.

Then again, it hasn't ended. And as I watch, I am convinced, I tell myself, I make myself believe, that now there is no pain.

The other

As I sat on a rock after my swim, I considered telling the little girl and her grandfather to not be afraid of the water. I’ve lived here most of my mortal life, I’d say.

They would reply, And what about the other one?

Steady.

I feel good. I feel strong.

I land on floor without a twinge or shock of a stressed ligament. I raise my arms above my head, as I should. And I walk away, lightly, ready for the next turn.

Even the storms were not much of anything the other night. Flashes out the window. Pouring rain outside of open windows. But after some Wii golf, the rain slackened, losing interest, leaving us alone with steam rising off of the streets.

An innovative use for a Spanish degree:

Translating Carissa's text messages from her boyfriend.

Of the best ones

I watch her spin around
in her highest heels
You are the best one
of the best ones

-Dashboard Confessional

Reflections on 7-11

Even though I feel the urge to work my abs, the past two nights have been highly enjoyable -- plotted yet spontaneous enough to keep me moving.

I love my friends. I love to dance. Let's think about that one.

Ah! Let's raise to not thinking.

It was supposed to be one of the hottest days yet.

I stepped outside of the air-conditioned office. My car is not unbearably stuffy and the wind carries the sun. The cheetah sunglasses keep me from squinting and I realize that commercials, not music, are playing.

But I am happy. I am good at what I do.

I feel like it is the beginning of June, that things are just starting to happen, or should be doing so.

I watch her spin around in her highest heels

There's a bit of a disjoint as we sit and chat about those things that some of us went to and others weren't invited to, hint around at the things that some of us know and others pretend not to, try to joke and prevent anything from being too obviously wrong.

I find myself bored in those times that are supposed to be "fun" and especially entertained when "fun" just happens. Sure, I'd like to rock out as much as the next person. But "the next person" isn't who I'd want to be with.

But tonight I raised my water and knew that if it were liquor, this would be just right.

But I did dream

that Lena, Natalie, and I were all attending grad school at MIT. Oh, my.

I don't know;

it's just
a weird sort of disjointed day where you know it's bad news on the phone but that you need to have your Cheerio's or you'll regret it later. You've woken up from a night of roaming the beach with a flashlight as a fourteen-year-old boy sings that you're a pirate. You have greasy pizza for lunch and find out that you've got a four-day weekend. It's raining on the Fourth of July and you think that it's fitting because you don't want to celebrate. Little boys whistle as you run down the block. You run down to the beach, but there are too many cars disturbing your peace. Silly people so overly-enthused. You dance in the kitchen because you cannot wait to do gymnastics. "I'm all right," you answer. Your skills in Mario Tennis have improved. "Goodnight, I love you!" the boy says from his sheet cocoon, already falling asleep in his pillow.

You know that it will not be a good two, or many, days.

Meditations.

Driving fast, all right. But I'm impressed by people who can get in their cars quickly. "See ya later!" they say as they find their keys. Then bam, they're out of the parking lot.

How do they do it?

Afterparty

As we walk down the stairs, Kelsey turns to me and whispers, "The balloon is musical."

Every little thing she does is magic.

Old and fun. :-)

In the end

it's me driving myself.

I frighten myself, I berate myself, but in the end, it's me calming myself.

Go on. Go on.

Second chance

Back turned, he leans into the refrigerator. The walls peel the way they always have, slowly. His jeans fit the same way -- too big.

"Do you want a drink or something?" he offers.

Or something, you think. I'll take one of those.

-Why does everyone have to die?

-If nobody died, you wouldn't be here. There'd be too many people. The extras would happen accidentally. Unhappily.

-Maybe.

A sea change

If someone had described it to me in other terms, I probably would have been more interested much earlier. "It's like getting paid to stalk and then write about it."

I may indeed change my mind, as we young people are apt to do. But something real is happening. I have something that will be shaped and cultivated and challenged, but it is something existing, fundamental, ready.

I posted the picture to say, "I am not that girl any longer." But then I pause. Of course I am. And then some.

While talking to Christina and Regina

I miss my life there right now.

I know what I want. I know who I want with me.

Sense of menace

is my new idea for a theme/direction of the Honors Thesis...since I've done, of course, so much work on it already.

Also, GRE = over with = fantastic = relief that I didn't devote my life to studying hefty amounts of information that would most likely not show up on the test.

The sun came out, suprisingly enough.

Forty-seven words

A pale figure runs from the reeds of the marsh, across the road, and up the hill into thick trees. White against night.

-Did you see that? I ask.

He shrugs, turning the car around the corner. –It’s just a ghost.

Behind us, a phantom quietly dies.

GRE Preparation

I decided to see what I was up against whilst I relearned standard deviation and probability, and thus swung onto the FAQ's.

"At the start of the test, you are presented with test questions of middle difficulty. As you answer each question, the computer scores it and uses that information, as well as your responses to preceding questions and information about the test design, to determine the next question. As long as you answer correctly, you will typically be given questions of increased difficulty. When you respond incorrectly, you will typically be given less difficult questions." -- gre.org

So when my questions become, "y = 3x. x=1. Solve for y," I'll know that I'm doing really well.

I like your style, GRE. Until, of course, I take you and get my scores back.

Helicopter lights and bad dreams

What happened to the happy news?

What creature...slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Tedium

I drive home, mindful of deer and police cars, and suddenly remember that I had been gray before. A fitful, tiring gray.

I had forgotten because the gym is a safe place. Writing, too, is a safe place, until it is shown to others beyond my friends and oftentimes classmates.

I tell myself that I tried, am trying now. I am looking everywhere and not hearing a sound.

But maybe I have no reason to mope. It may have been too easy for me up until now.

After all, you're cleared to run.

Big doings in life:

-Cleared to run today! "If you can run two miles without it hurting, then you're healed." I'm sure a few roundoff-back handsprings will also be essential to the final stretch of the healing process...

-Watched movies recently (clearly, I'm a new woman)

-Traveled to Cortland, encountering additional thunderstorms and witnessing (somewhat, when Mom and I weren't busy laughing at people) my dad make his comeback from Pileup Menace to Cycling Champ.

-Reunited with several fantastic former teammates from Spins

-Got a real job (just kidding...that will take quite some time, if ever) (working on it, however)

-Showed the world what Wading River's all about ("world" = non-viral link = click that bad boy)

-Finished a story

"Good deal, Gallagher," as Mr. K would say.

"If Angela was here,"

I tell Brian as we wait for a car to pass us before we walk across the road, "we would have made a run for it." Of course, I've had a bit to drink, which makes the idea even more appealing.

I imagine the Bri standing on the curb, shaking his head, as Angela and I take off over the asphalt. An SUV approaches. Indifferent, Angela's new ACL and my leisurely-healing metatarsal would scamper joyfully through the night, almost as if Pontillo's awaited us down the darkened roads. We would likely begin to giggle loudly and make a Facebook-related comment, or perhaps even a Ross Borden reference to "innate curiosity." The night would be officially concluded only after we'd checked each other's away messages prior to sleep.

As I check Angela's away message now from where she rests in the 845, I raise my Poland Spring to August 25th, to the beauty of receiving "offline" messages, and to Cortland's floor.

Only my father

would cause a bicycle accident on North Country Road that I happened to pass by on my way to the gym.

I cause a scene by envisioning (out loud) a volcanic Bald Hill, flapping my arms in a pre-historic-bird-fashion (nods to Brittany), discussing rumors of pregnancy by homeless men and "bringing one's A-game" with my lovely Seven, and dancing to no music, without any reason at all. All following each other in quick succession.

I suppose it's not so strange, really. But someone has to catch the attention of those who have been treading slowly for too long.

2:14

I think I am ready to write.

If she had indeed

named me Jennifer, I would have certainly spelled "Jenn" with two "n's." Or "Britt" with two "t's," etc.

But when I read the occasional mispelled "Dianna" that is meant for me, I think to myself, "Oh, no, now that's excessive."

12:50am on Route 25A

At the red light, a silver car slides up next to me on the left. Slowly. Slipping against the dashed line. I stare ahead, wondering if the driver is looking at me.

At the green light, the car turns on the speed -- the way I knew it would -- and flashes a quick signal before coasting ahead of me.

I have the feeling that I've been brushed against, a little too nearly, and that a smirk was tossed before he moved on.

So much water so close to home

Falling, cascading, hurtling, everywhere. If I pause quickly in just the right place, will I find myself dry, protected by a ring like bullets, like beads, like rain?

Elementary school and on

They always thought that you were serious and I was laughing.






They didn't know that you were the one who was making me laugh.

Post-trauma

The sky is sunny, but I swear I hear thunder.