To Build A Fire

Face down. Red burn. Eyes against the cold. Push through. Push through.

Barely an inch of snow on the ground. A ten-minute walk, and I want to run to warmth. After all, nobody is around to stand witness at 7:50am.

But I walk anyway.

How the hell'd you do it, Jack London?

LAST DAY OF CLASSES

No, really, I am that excited.

PRESSURE! ::thinks of Billy Joel::

It seems that my most "productive" writing comes
when I am forced into it, in the style of AP tests and take-home finals.
"Only spend two hours on this!"
My integrity agrees,
and in all honesty, who would want to linger over such "timed" essays?
This is not meant to be a poem. I just don't have to
fill out line after line of revelatory analysis,
or even sit at the computer any longer (and you know I will!)
and I say,
"YAY!"

No quiero Taco Bell!

After perusing the local newspaper online, I decided I wanted to see a more global perspective on the world. In an LA Spanish-language newspaper, I found....THIS.

ESTO!

I think my favorite part might be the fact that Long Island is called an "estado de Nueva York"; a state of New York.

For the record, I have never eaten Taco Bell. Clearly, that's about to change.

Hemingway, more appealing to me at the moment

"It moved up closer to him still and now he could not speak to it, and when it saw he could not speak it came a little closer, and now he tried to send it away without speaking, but it moved in on him so its weight was all upon his chest..."
-"The Snows of Kilimanjaro," Hemingway

What a relief it is to wake up,
feeling nothing but a little tired.
Even the bitter blast is all right, at least from in here.

And:

'"Love is a dunghill,' said Harry. 'And I'm the cock that gets on it to crow.'"

A step up from The Old Man and the Sea, to be sure!

under the radar

I feel less vulnerable this way. For now.

Ahhh, eff it, I've lost my train of thought for the night!

I shall post this compliment, courtesy of Rachel:

"You'll be like Jesus...Only shorter...And more agile."

el primer caido oficial de la nieve

Sometimes, as I walk down the sidewalk, I have the urge to flip.

sincerity

So many eyes, and when it mattered, I didn't let the glow of their gaze melt me.

I thought I would. They would smile at me, for certain. But behind those smiles I sensed the question: Why are you here? The lean forward, eyes narrowed, hand on the chin stance. Hmm.

I am not hmm, the uncertain nonword. I am not yet who I will be, but that day I stretched my arms and let you see the current draft in progress. There are words. There are scribbles, there are scratches, there are stains, and there are words.

And as I moved away, yet ever before your view, I forgot you were watching. You smiled, in the end, sincerely, because I was and few others were.

I land. The affirmative punctuation.

This is only the beginning.

we write when

other stories become too boring.

balmy december first

My umbrella's long since blown inside out, and as I watch other girls hurry past, hoods huddled to their hair, I let the rain hit and slick and frizz my hair as much as it wishes.

System of A Down.

Kneeling roses disappearing into
Moses' dry mouth
Breaking into Fort Knox stealing
Our intentions
Hangers sitting dripped in oil
Crying freedom
Handed to obsoletion,
Still you feed us lies from the tablecloth
Everybody's going to the party
have a real good time
Dancing in the desert
blowing up the sunshine

You can't call me political, and a good deal of those allusions waft pass me, and I should be researching ETA in "real books" as opposed to random websites about Star Wars merchandise, but I can't deny the catchiness of that song.

She should step more confidently, I think, and I should tell her this.

Counting down again.

I'll never be as enamored of this
as they are.

preparing to go into the cold night with wet hair, as usual

I don't feel the need to write. I only wish to be, right now.

Though I do need something to read besides old ice skating biographies aimed at twelve-year-olds. Anyone, anyone?

persevere ::festive stars and colors that clash with the red and black motif that is Cortland::

I'm spectacularly awake right now, and I enjoy cosmic bowling, particularly when I'm good at it.

Of course, 2am is a lovely time to correct papers.

I enjoy the imagery of Laurel charging the second floor in camoflauge and whacking her residents with sticks.

And I MOST particularly enjoy el hecho de que I'm going home in two days, and how good that feels. Almost as good as my shins. But not quite.

Dance.

I simply don't feel the need to be useful right now!

The life of Laurel, RA-extraordinare:

"haha i almost quit after the first one. some kid got taken out in cuffs and there was a random wasted guy wandering the halls. it was a bad time."

::Fond flashbacks to nightclerking and witnessing various people taken away by EMS. Mmm, knew I was in for a good viewing experience whenever the ambulance rolled up! And the hours passed slowly after that...and I wrote in Spanish...and started to lose all sense of feeling...::

College students are, well, a mess.

This young lady...

...is two today. :-)

Pike's Peak, Blaine Wilson, and S'mores

I speak too much for tired eyes, but somehow I can't stop writing right now.