a case of the overdramatics

By now I'm tired of the phrase "writing my thesis," but I'll miss it when/if it's ever done.

I also miss:

gymnastics (real gymnastics, not open gym gymnastics), a sense of team, the drive to exercise, physical goals, and people worth being around. Though maybe anyone is something; soon enough, who will be there at all?

In the end, there is one dance you'll do alone

Maybe it was catching the end of Paranormal Activity with the brave children of SBS, or the dreams last night that could happen, but today just doesn't feel right.

I dislike office work (nothing new), but walks through other buildings make me want to stay here. Shut the door. The silence of the engineering buildings, sans the rumble of machinery--doors without windows and old yellow walls--I thought I was safe in Fine Arts, with pianos and violins playing behind doors signaling life--alas, but the top floor yields graffiti on walls and lockers. My footsteps down the stairs. What kind of a home are these?

--

On a happier note, I'm pleased to see that Lena's inimitable observation of "lol...what?" and its meanings, social implications, and relevance on the lives of my friends (especially female) has truly taken off. Lulz away!

Hey, soul sista!

That title's for the ineffable Rachel Lee, whose movie blog I use as the ultimate gauge of a movie's worthiness. Rachel doesn't approve? Then no bueno!

(Buenoz?)

--

She's got the time,
says she's got time on her side.

Can't say I do! Ra!

2.20.2010 (the plot thickens)

Besides hearing Gia's confession that she thought chalk was cheese at age 2, stalking figure skating on YouTube, venturing to Bridgehampton for delicious raviolis, dancing on Chat Roulette in Sean's coyote den, and downloading "Invisible," I've been writing. Tonight the plot thickened and I think from here on out, it may be difficult to find stopping points until I reach the end. The end. Whatever that means. I already want/need to rewrite it.

Good or cringe-worthy, I'm proud that I've been so industrious for the past two months. It's not easy with so many open doors.

Back then I could do it all. But I'm beginning to see that by keeping up this life, some things have to give.

"Getting surgery. Might be paralyzed. BRB."

You have to love being called upon to "sub" when you're dressed for success: sparkle motion gymnastics jacket, bangs that linger too long on the face, and gray sweatpants with deep blue paw prints on the butt. Ah, but the old students giggle and wave at you anyway.

--

Good tidings: one of my plays will be performed here on April 17th. There's love, sex, and local sports. What more could you want?

--

Two songs in my mind the past two days: as I kick into the final stretch, Avenged Sevenfold's "Afterlife." And as I kick it back old-school, "Invisible." I won't even say the artist. It's embarrassing, I know, but it's my life.

Back to times on Lincoln Avenue

WHOA. Can't believe there's a Train song called "Lincoln Avenue" that basically sums up my life on Lincoln Avenue senior year.

(Montauk Highway song coming soon?)

But wait, now Pandora's brought us back to ninth grade: And she carries on without a doubt, I wonder if she'll figure it out...

"Who are you making faces at?"

"Diana's boyfriend!" - Sarah

Valentina wins beam on Valentine's Day, all sorts of ribbons for all sorts of places, Kaylee offers to straighten my hair "at the next sleepover," and a surprise visit from a very special gentleman -- quite the good day! :-D

[your title here]

I should be excited, but instead I'm afraid that time runs short here. Could I have been more?

(This is not a self-apocalypse.)

--

Sean, as the credits of The Lion King roll: "So who has The Little Mermaid?"

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGOAL

After the middle school lockerroom drama of She made the team and I didn't! How dare she? She gets everything! (ironic, since the speaker was a better gymnast than me at the time and that was all I really wanted), being yelled at by our lacrosse goalie because it was my fault that she couldn't catch the ball?, and those Saturday morning practices that we only went to for the promise of bagels, I left the days of team sports for track and field, cross-country, and of course gymnastics. Saved the passes and slick cuts for gym class floor hockey with Mike and Rob.

Last night's soccer extravaganza didn't exactly ignite a newfound longing for team sports. By the end of things, it was me loitering by the goal while Sean commentated the game. But there were some bursts: a ball to the side of the body, elbows to stomach, ankles rolling and then standing, sprinting after the ball in front of the boys who don't want their RA to write them up.

And today I feel a bit of soreness. I like that, the risk for pain. It's been awhile. For that, I might just go back.

I just died in your flash drive tonight

It must've been something I typed...

1) Tony rocks at life. Why, friends? Because he spent three-and-a-half hours recovering the thesis pages that disappeared with the yank of a flash drive. Now I don't need to cry myself to sleep.

2) Moral: Don't trust Res Life computers.

3) Or anything Res Life, for that matter.

4) Flosef also rocks at life. So hard, in fact, that she doesn't even need a Facebook fan page to show it. Can you imagine such blasphemy, friends? I can!

Storm warning

/occurrance. Meal gym meal grapes stashed in a cup and muffin tucked into bag for the other hours, the ones that will be harder to bear. Move from keyboard to keyboard to call it different scenery. New music from other keystrokes. I miss those girls! I hope I know enough to make them move though my accent's nameless and my writing creeps through. Out the window trees bend in dissonance. Can you hear me? I swear you still do.

El sol de febrero

"A sense of security, of well-being, of summer warmth pervades my memory. That robust reality makes a ghost of the present. The mirror brims with brightness; a bumblebee has entered the room and bumps against the ceiling. Everything is as it should be, nothing will ever change, nobody will ever die." - Vladimir Nabokov, Speak, Memory

Thinking of Empire

The conductor lifts his baton and the orchestra ascends into static.

Green water washes away the nightmare.

A half bit of peace

Now my room is habitable, and I don't need to rush anywhere just yet, and even the sun still shows distantly. The finer things!

--
And I'd hope you might
take me back inside
when the time is right.

I must have heard this song shouted in your car half a hundred times. Summer nights where I sang along. Now I play the old songs for the new words and damn, don't they sing!

Your kind of sentence

I say I dislike everyone lately and then I realize it's not really everyone but those I don't know very well. The ones I know well I like well enough.

I couldn't write more than four lines (besides the drafted e-mail with Flo) tonight because I need to connect. I need to talk to someone. Nothing is wrong. I want the satisfaction of conversation that moves seamlessly through the hours. That's your kind of sentence, I think.

I need someone to say, "This is where you should send it to" or "Let me help you in finding such a place." But yet I feel disjointed. I worry because I'm there one less day, and who knows what could happen in one less day for fourteen (now twelve?) weeks. Perhaps they'll need one less of me. I wonder about my priorities. How do I reconcile all of these things that matter? Do I dare to call them dreams?

2.1.2010 (1.2.2010 as we say en espanol)

Consider this, if you can: no Internet, few noises, purple and green walls and chairs, two-and-a-half hours, 8-9 pages. For the masters of night-before papers, nothing; for me, a breakneck speed.

--

Interesting how someone won't respond to an e-mail/Facebook message/wall post/etc., but will make their Internet activity VERY apparent. Just to keep in mind.

--

Before we trek through the "Wild Meadow," we turn the corner toward my flat tire. The late afternoon light just the way I love it. No breeze. Soft earth-red boots over the gravel. We turn and I think It's time to move. Time to start again.

Almost February

"Sometimes it happened that he spoke perfectly clearly and nobody paid him any mind at all. But on that day, on that particular morning, he was undeniable. On that particular morning he was at his best." - John Wray, Lowboy

Talk to strangers

One week down of Spring 2010, and the world is not too much (yet). Starting to feel the isolation again, but I see it's been voluntary. That I could connect more if I chose to. I haven't chosen to until today. Today the sun beams over the cold grass and the wind is calm and I want to make things move.

--

Every medium I use is a graveyard to someone else. I write anyway. Marking present time into memories for the return.

--

My cousin tells her two-year-old daughter, "Use your words."

I wake up and see my words as little girls cartwheeling. As older girls getting ideas.

Away from the sun again

These five hours of actually being in here, as opposed to pretending, are long. Quite long.

Old songs and some a bit newer came up on Pandora's "90's rock" station as I wrote. Strange to think how strongly I once felt. Strange to feel so differently now. I even put some of the old songs back on the iPod today. No more ninth grade, post-surgery burn, senior year at WSUC. Just the girl trying to be real. All of it carried with her.

--

I keep up the map of the Adirondacks to remind myself of where I am. It won't be long.

reading under the table with flashlights

I'm not sure how this biography situation is going to go (NSYNC? Miley? What, what?), but the people are interesting, and I could actually learn something, so that's a start.

--

"You know, you've got a good catch," my dad says on the phone today. "He sat through the whole thing and didn't even look bored!"

I agree, Padre. ;-)

I am overwhelmed...

by how cute my girls were today! 32.20, 32.4o for the six-year-old? Not bad. Not a bad way to begin at all.

--

How do you measure a year? In not panicking in the Return of the Residents. I have things to do. People to be.

"I'm going to call it 'the holy handstand' from now on."

Today has provided a number of revelations.

The first, which is unrelated to the others: Can we ban status updates? Please?

I have suddenly, but strongly, become exhausted by the excessive narcissism that is Facebook. I do not need to know every detail of your screenplay, your evening plans, your love life (though disasters do entice me, I will say), your love/hate family drama, your day every day. I DON'T CARE. Maybe your mom cares. That is very nice. But if you want sympathy, go, I don't know, tweet it somewhere. Text your friends. Be proactive rather than wail via Facebook.

Secondly:

For the first time, I looked around at today's competition and was not impressed. Did not feel either overwhelmed or ashamed. This season, we are either up there or getting there. It needs to be successfully demonstrated before the judges, but this year, unlike last, we've got the goods.

Thirdly:

I looked around and did not see many coaches smiling. A girl falls on her front tuck. Her coach throws his head back. Another misses her squat-on. Her coach tells her that she had better not miss that squat-on again. Ever.

Meanwhile, we've got Sarah picking her wedgie as she jumps from low to high bar (during warm-ups, thankfully), Alexa losing her tooth before bars, and each girl doing the most horrendous vault they've ever done in warm-ups.

I know there's money, pride, parental pressure, sweat, tears, endless rolled ankles on the line. But really, sometimes, what else can you do but laugh?

Fourthly:

Imagine: Competitive success and enjoying the sport?

"Tag it!" ::points to springboard::

1. Oh, RA "training," I almost enjoy you and your nothingness.

2. I really hope tomorrow's not a disaster with all those eyes watching.

3. ____________________________________________ (fill in your own).

"I'm not going to drop y'all like a bad habit!"

"I wouldn't go in those woods! There are deer and rabbits in there!" - Sherrille

--

Well, I'm back in Southampton, and I am writing, and so far, my soul is still in tact.

I didn't think I'd say this,

but why did Winter Break fly so fast?!

"What'd I tell you about that mat?"

One of our Level 4's is very, very shy and would not do her floor routine in front of everyone. So the girls said they'd do the routine with her (minus most of the skills, so that nobody would die).

Como agua para chocolate

Rain falls on the crooked slates leading to our door. I can see the water through streetlights.

Tonight I'm perfectly at peace. Pink and green comforter. "Sarah Lawrence College Football - Still Undefeated" T-shirt. Alexis and Jillian running laps around the trees. Ten wondrous months! And the story that runs from underneath my fingers when I actually get going with it.

Tonight I could go for a scandal.

On the usefulness of penguins

Just to immortalize it in the blogosphere:

Gia, age 7: "It's cold. I need something to warm me up. Like a penguin with hot cheeks."

I'll be dancing

I've come to see that although our girls may not exactly be taking over the podium, their personalities are second to none.

Diana: "So ,Valentina, what do you want to be when you grow up? What's your life plan?"
Valentina: "I'm going to write a book about YOU!"
Diana is flattered.
Valentina: "I'm going to write about all my coaches. It'll be a series, starting with my first coach and going up to my last coach." ::throws arms wide to indicate this spectrum::

...

"Terrific" poetry?, YAWPing in the other worldly realm of Ross, and an official title for "the story." You fly faster than I imagined, winter break!

01.11.10

I enjoy palindromes like these.

3° on 01.11.10

A part of me secretly wants to get married on January 11th. ¿Por que, you may ask? Figure that out yourselves, LOTR fans!

--

"We'll stay in the condo for a few days. Then we'll venture out. Then we'll stay in the condo for a day, venture out for a day. Mom will chainsmoke. Everyone will argue." - Jess' family vacations in Florida.

--

I lift my chin and spin in the kitchen. All is right.

rise of the poetess

Revised life plan:
-live in a utopian garden with Liz.
-frolic each day.
-feel bones.

Fire tower

Why Life is Kickin' Right Now:

-Not being in Southampton --> No duty phone, no flyers, no Dean-of-Students (or lack thereof) drama, no weed wafting through the night air...
-No drama of any sort!
-Time to work on my thesis.
-AND enjoy it!
-Googling for thesis and finding random things like Adirondack fire towers.
-Time to read!
-Time spent with my friends!!
-Time to work out/feel good.
-Real, edible food.
-Internet access to a TV show too embarrassing to name here.
-Open gym.
-Beth's love life.
-Lauren's love life: "But it didnt stop at my toes...all of a sudden...our SIDES were touching."
-Coaching. Far too entertaining...: Valentina, age 8, in response to Sue saying she's pregnant: "Why do you want to go through that pain again?" Everyone laughs and she says, "Don't laugh! You've all been through a birthing experience!"

"So when are you coming to work for us?"

I like that when my mom says, "When you graduate and get a full-time job," my dad and I both laugh.

Here are some potential life plans, Blog World.
-Miraculously land a full-time (yes, Madre!) teaching gig.
-Maintain a multitude of part-time jobs (a.k.a. life currently).
-Obtain Composition & Rhetoric certificate from SBU to entice potential employers.
-Apply to PhD programs at Binghamton, Albany. Downside: leaving my gymnasts if I am accepted.
-Get published, receive just enough critical clout so that people think I'm capable of teaching writing, hopefully leading to Life Plan 1.
-Teach, write, coach, enjoy life!
-Become Spanish.

earth turns slowly

Wind strips snow from fields (the green almost shows). It bursts in white dreams meant to blind. I turn up the radio anyway. I know what winter means.

--

The past week-and-a-half brought good friends and good laughs. Snowy days but decent roads keep me moving. Lots of sleep, lots of time, lots of words.

Life is pretty excellent!

1-1-2010

Not the biggest fan of January, but who doesn't mind a new start?

Addendum to previous post: Once in awhile, doing what I choose to do. Instead of caving to what I think everyone else wants.

--

I think part of what's kept me jolted is that I went from the midst of the game -- feet kicking, legs flying, voices shouting -- to the podium, dressed in another jersey, announcements in other tongues -- still waiting for the payoff.

Here it comes

(I'm quite blog-happy today.)

So I resolve:
-Go upstate!
-Finish the tale of Nick & Pete. Actually, I have no choice in this matter.
-Graduate in May '10.
-Avoid subsequent "What the hell do I do now?" breakdown.
-Get published afresh.
-To PhD or not to PhD? And other quandaries, grand and small, that I'd like to get under control. Gotta man up. Hopefully.
-Oh, and run the ten miles I never quite got around to this year...

Salud!

There it goes

The finest New Year celebrations have taken place within the last five years or so:

In no rank order:

-Gathering at Joy's house when Joy and Mike had just started dating, 2004: The rest of us spent much of the night freaking out about witnessing their midnight kiss.
-We all survived.
-Gatherings in Kim's apartment, the intermediate years: good people, good food, good times!
-Cuernavaca, 2007: Sitting outdoors at a restaurant (oh, hey, 70 degrees!), sharing tremendous/delicious beverages and life stories, and watching the fireworks burst into the sky from across the street at midnight.
-Wisdom teeth, 2008: A nap and a painkiller took away all my crankiness/bleeding. Snowy roads meant no one could drive. So I watched Pride and Prejudice, turned on the TV for the obligatory ball-dropping, and overall, found it to be a successful holiday.

Bad romance

Instead of the polite, restrained way, in dreams I step forward and put my hand on your face in greeting. We both understand.

come, all ye faithful

I'm fairly calm these days. More like the Sound than ocean: waves whipped in frenzy, but well-contained. And that's all very nice...

Some nights I want to stalk over cold ground in black boots, raise your eyes, stake my claim.

muscle fibres

"I don't think I know the difference between having needs and being needy."

"We've been on-again, off-again, but now we're back on again."
"For how long?"
"A week and a half." -- oh, mature adult relationships!

"They broke up, and he has now dated all of Long Island."

--

Tonight I am collected against the cold. Three pairs of lights glow green. Go. Go. Go.

So much silliness.

I'd like to announce it right here:

I AM CRANKY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ah. Relief. :-)

--

I think music therapy is my calling. Minus the part where I cheated on my violin practice sheet in third grade, wanted to shoot myself when playing flute, and didn't join chorus in middle school because it required waking up earlier for school.

But I can make a damn good mix CD.

--

Beth to a boy she likes: "Do you think I'm too ridiculous to date?"

--

You'll find me here two days a week, teaching playwriting. Word on the street is that there's an aquarium under the floor and you can't wear shoes...?

2009-like journeys

-Albany with a still-swollen mouth from wisdom teeth removal. No better way to kick off the year!
-Miscellaneous warehouses on Long Island in the name of gymnastics meets.
-Most notably New Image, which involved the GPS, actual directions, and texts from Mark as I went the wrong direction on the LIE. It was an accident, though. Really.
-Manhattan each Saturday.
-Cortland and its magical spring floor. <3
-Greenport gelato, carousel, and missing camera.
-Wading River beach, gnats at sunset.
-Dublin ("Can I get your mobile?")
-cross-country bus
-County Kerry (Tralee and Uncle Jimmy, Killarney for castles)
-LONDON! Bike rides to work, the Globe, Jude Law.
-Owego, Vestal, Candor, jamocha bliss!
-Southampton all day, every day.
-Wainscott, van driver of middle-aged women.
-Stony Brook, one half-asleep day per week.
-Pomona, New Jersey, for an escape.
-Greenport tea! <3
-And on its glorious return: Tidewater (Step Up 4: Wings Bowl Champions).

From the depths of the Stop & Shop parking lot

HI, MISS KIM!

::waves::

Welcome to the adventures. ;-)

"You'd need to read him his rights first."

Yay for planning New Years in Buffalo, walking into the bar to see my brother, and then receiving the text from him: "Don't talk to any guys."

If I drown tonight, bring me back to life

Maybe this has been the year of second chances.

The renewal of Nick & Pete. Returning to my youth as the caretaker of (eight) fish (horoscope today: "You may feel that you hold the reins of eight reindeer on a sleigh"). Five miles on Thanksgiving Day once again. Dusting off that Al Hambra. Another competition season. Another round at SBS. Teaching again! And after a multitude of flings, a second chance at actual romance.

And how do we take these chances?

I told them in Spanish. How much clearer could I have been?!

Winter blasts on us the day after my birthday. Soft but quick flakes as I leave the gym, more in the King Kullen parking lot, to the climax of screeching air against our cheeks as we dodge the snow from building to building. I start to panic a bit, thinking of The Shining, thinking of how easily I feel trapped.

But we make ourselves warm. Killian's on windowsills and the opening chords to "Free Falling." Sunset burns over white hills. Orange pink yellow against tree silhouette and silver windmill lining.

Today the roads are snow rifts and I remember drifting through Cortland parking lots and roads, through upstate 81 to go north because only a whiteout would take me off that road. I was determined. Maybe I still am. It needs to be in the right way, though, whatever that means.

I lie on my bed briefly, eyes and mind bouncing, and see my name on the door sign. I look at the tight curls of a-n-a in that festive font and think that they ought to be looser, ought to be more like a river dancing.

Roaring Twenties

"My jacket and my shoes match! What other guy does that?" - Peter (many times over)

Hovering over my Cape Cod at the Tide with a bottle of vodka:
Flo: "I'm adding a little fun."

"We think he might be Bret Michaels." - Jenni

"You thought he was Bret Michaels, so you let him write on your boob. He was the 2007 Wings Bowl Champion." - protecting the innocent here! (I was not involved!)

"His picture is right here!" - Jason pointing to the wall

"We have an awesome beer pong mix with Lady Gaga. Like that 'Alejandro' song!" - Fernando, who gets a shout in "that 'Alejandro' song"

"Tony, if you were single, I'd date Diana." - Flo

Jeff: "I'm thinking about us in a threesome."
Diana: "I'm gonna go..."
Jeff: "Wait! I was going to focus on Tony!"

Lauren enters the kitchen eating from a box of Italian-seasoned croutons.
Tony: "Why are you eating those?"
Lauren: "Fernando gave them to me."

Diana: "Where are you?"
Lauren: "In an upstairs room."
Diana enters upstairs room to see that five girls are on a bed eating croutons.
Lauren: "We don't know whose room this is."
Diana looks around and realizes thats she doesn't know, either.

In the midst of a Dustin-Deana-Diana sandwich:
Deana: "I think I've died and gone to heaven!"

"I like your non-denominational holiday hat." - Flo

"I can't believe you talked to him!" - Francesca, laughing for about a half hour afterwards

"I'm a disgrace to the state of Texas." - Flo

"I'm trying to cure her hiccups!" - Sean, wrapped in blue blanket

Diana: "There better not be stains on my bed!"
Lauren: "I'm smarter than that!"

Good luck in fours?

1.) Found a paycheck in a bag I haven't used in awhile.
2.) Discovered the chocolate chip cokies I bought for Dom last Friday!
3.) http://eclecticflash.com/authors.html
4.) Possible gig teaching playwriting in high schools next semester.

Good. Things. :-)

It happens when you pay attention

Last night: pizza, parties in a bag, "Peter, please answer:". Tonight: thick waves of rain cleansing ocean sky clear. Falling stars over lifeguard chairs and white water spray. Alive and well and watching.

"Similarly? More like equally."

It's 28 degrees in Stony Brook and blisteringly clear. I'd like adventure and laughter in cold air and swaying legs, but Transiberian Orchestra puts me in the right spirits.

--

Besides the portfolio and final grades, I've finished teaching for the semester. I survived. So did they. I stuttered plenty, had the overhead fail on observation day, encountered much silence any time grammar or story discussion (or, God forbid, poetry!) came up. But then there was "write a 160-character text message about what really happened," freewrite on food, Nutella ads, "Tsunami Tsurfers," Donnie Darko, six-word memoirs, Donald the WRT 101 student, the definition of "facetious," freetext, class walks, map your place, and, of course, El Nino.

And hopefully this leads to other blackboards, other faux finals on the board, other laughs. And maybe a bit of learning.

--

The other night, I watched my hair fall softly in the mirror. The natural waves from a father with thick hair and years of tight ponytails. Dark hair on top, lighter hair to the finish. I have thought often of dying it all back to dark, or straightening it, or asking Lauren to trim the bangs that can almost be tucked behind my ears--

No. Tonight, it falls just right.

"You can be our prosecutor."

Once again: Google stalking for the win!

"My life is complete."

Is it strange that I'm excited by small unexciting things such as bronchitis inhalers, stories with xylophones, everyone laughing when I say something funny, a well-organized conclusion to fall?

And by the bigger things, like riding in the backseat of Officer Burns' patrol car to Amagansett?

;-)

homo erectus

But I compare a dance step from the Level 5 routine to the evolution chart of ape to present-day man and Kaylee laughs heartily, I have no idea what I'm going to teach tomorrow and suspect that class won't be longer than, say, thirty minutes due to my MIA voice, and everything moves as it should. The lights shine the proper way over the desk and I can take this, more of this.

I can see it in your eyes

This winter might be longer than I thought. But I dreamt that I was done, and that was good.

I want to make it better but I seem to always tread in these same circles.

No matter where I am,
I can't help feeling I'm just a day away
from where I want to be.

Better than four?

One step forward, two steps down.

Discobiscuits, Genesis, and Birthdays

These rainy days wash me well.

--

When you walk up the path at just the right time -- say, 11 am -- you look down the hill and see deep gray-blue clouds above the water, water that glimmers bright as ice. Under what sun? No matter. It shines so brightly that the strip of land dividing bay from ocean falls into silhouette. These are the sort of scenes I take from this place.

--

I half-sleep and your toes half-nudge mine. In your sleep state and my half-sleep state, I don't know if you wished to find my foot there or had rather run through. On to the next dream. All the same, I slide my foot aside. Just in case.

--

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LAUREN! And happy birthday yesterday to Rob, my perpetual twin!
:-)

el primer dia de diciembre

IT'S DECEMBER.

My favorite month.

And my birthday, as Francesca noted.

I'd be intelligent, but my mind's about to fall down.

You found your way out

I spend these late hours writing and then looking, looking -- but for what? Who will appear and what will they say to take away this feeling?

Spend your time well before you go.

I think I may need a mix CD for the return.

To fictitious mountain towns

Do I use these words to try to bring myself closer?

I wonder if this place will matter as much when you're gone.

On the verge of peppermint mocha

The wind's still rolling and now I've caught on. I run quickly down alleyway and walk next to deep blue river. Reeds bend, water breaks, my hair flies. She says "beta" and I think of fish in a bowl, swishing fiesty tail. She says I'm the powerful one and I realize she's right, that maybe I have been all along.

southern lights

This wind has soul.

simplicity.

Soft rain on roof. Christmas music but I'm not cringing (too much). I am thankful for two healthy legs that will be very sore when I wake up, two feet that bounce up hills and curve around beams. Two hands for typing the two current stories. Two parents, three brothers, two girls, two boys, three teams, fourteen students, one love. Many loves. Many friends. Many words, many miles, many songs. Nights with Lauren and tea. Nights with all of us dancing. I danced all day today and never when there was music. That's the joy, I think.

On Northern shores

I look to the ocean and feel thankful for the Sound.

Home for approximately 1.5 hours

and I'm not very good at staying still.

"I'M EIGHTEEN!"

Some nights all we need is good company, windows down, and the most ridiculous songs the dial can find.

92 pages and rising

I look forward to next semester's Fridays, where I won't work for 9 hours and drive an additional two hours and then spend Saturday afternoons sleeping it away. Sometimes Sunday, like today, is the day of the sleeping-and-reading hangover. You know what that's like?

I'm all right. Amotivated but that's everyone right now. I'll miss teaching next semester and I hope that there's some sudden burst of students who need to be taught and that they'll pick me. I want to learn everything exciting and minute and breathtaking. I want something worth sweating over, something worth the miles under aching knees.

Maybe it's the YA novel-reading of sixteen-year-olds with their best friends for life, but today I miss our friendship more than normal. I know it's "people change" and "who cares" and imagined vendettas that really mean nothing. Still, though. I miss it.

Thanks for the memories

Sunshine in November, and I wake up free of everything that held me back before.

luck be a ladybug

"Can we use a springboard for bars?"
"Can I do a straddle kip?"
"Can we go to Panera?" --> followed by a chorus of "YEAAAAHHHH!"

9.3. 9.2. 9.2. I'll take it!

thirteenth, Friday

There's water on the moon and water on the south shore. Ice under speed skaters with long legs and swinging arms. It's almost that time for dancing and snow sprays and anthems. For now, I screw the lid and keep the heat.

--

There are a couple of things I'd like to say. First off, if you want to make "joking" advances, why would you do it while I'm standing there? Or at all, even, especially if I'm your friend?

And secondly, I've grown weary of consistent status updates, sad faces, blah blah blah over "I'm not in a relationship"/"I can't have her"/"But I want him/her." Yes, we've all been there! But you are allowed to enjoy the rest of your life sometimes!

We all have times when we've got to let it out. But for the rest of the time: If you have something emo to say, don't say it.

Samurai chai & 11.11

"Diana, you always keep me on task during stretching!" - Kaylee

That's why they keep me around!

--

Between the safety dance, ligers, panda death, and a single xylophone, I'm feeling pretty inspired!

"Instead of 'fin,' you'll say, 'PIN!'"

Spring '10 Shelter Island dorm themes, as composed by Ashley and me in the Tree House Lounge today:

-12 apostles
-Stations of the cross
-Communist countries
-Countries of Africa
-Colors of the Wind (shotgunning Grandma Willow)
-Boots (with the fur)
-Shakespearean insults
-Phases of Ashley's life

And on the plus side for creativity, I did win the random drawing in the name of the shoulder stick: Sebastian.

(This pursuit of the MFA is clearly paying off!)

"I'm like Enrique Iglesias."

Adventures in (real) Wainscott coupled with WEHM DJs jumping the car and the pink elephant mini golf course in Candor. Surprises in Suite 1! Quick and frigid beach trip with fuschia pink sky burning. Conflicting stories. Continuing stories. Caralyn's life story. Boys in boxes with foam axes. "...Even my smell."

And... and...

G'night!

Post-Deana Fridays

are brutal, even without Lauren's influence. ;-)

Last night: Eleven of us packed onto chairs and couches in the Greenport common area, watching "The History of Porn" or something similarly ridiculous that's even more absured under the influence. Everyone's making wise-cracks and laughing. Dom offers his house for my birthday party "as long as you invite Kimberly." 12:36 a.m. is the appropriate time for an adventure under piercing moon, deep blue sky. At 3:00 a.m. Family Guy parodies Mel Gibson and Dusty's put Deana on the couch. When I leave, the sky is perfect black and I move quickly over the sidewalk, bag in hand - the doctor is in.

And I'm a million different people from one day to the next...

Today the sun pierces just as much as the moon, but I'm barely moving. Spanish music on Pandora's the only thing to keep me awake (and Christina!). My fingers slip on the keyboard. I can only think of convenient gym closures and sleep, but neither will happen.

--

"I think we should go into business together and start a club where people can't touch each other. Like they have to wear signs that say, 'It's okay to grind on me.'"

--

The good thing this week is that I've put in the miles. Done real skills. My left shoulder's never going to loosen, both knees hurt, my left hip flexor shoots a nagging tightness down the leg, my back yelped as I turned quickly toward this computer.

And how do I feel? Fantastic.

remember, remember, the fifth of November!

Open gym, 11.4:
-System of A Down songs that I'd forgotten about blast against all walls.
-Matt swings on the rope above the trampoline, wearing a Superman cape.
-I lift into the air, twist, land lightly. Do it again.

--

"I haven't been to the library since 1984." - Tara, age 25

--

As I drink water and we discuss babies: "I hear they die easily. Like pets."

"Take your shirt off!"

So I really need a break.
And I ended class fifteen minutes early for lack of anything else to teach.
And my knees hurt despite taking today off.

But I've got a thesis settled upon,
a first-round acceptance into a lit mag,
skinny black pants,
and you know,
it's not last year
but I'm starting to
(!!!) like this year.

I need a little more time on Tuesdays

Knock it off, you dreams, you!

Nowhere to go but out, so I'm gone

There's nowhere to go in this town but out, so I'm gone. Like the ones I laughed with--they're gone, too. I don't know what's next, but I don't want to stay.

If she ever had the chance, would she do it all again?

I dreamt about this old song yesterday. We tried to make a music video to it and got as far as walking on the beach, me wearing one of your shirts and a pair of sunglasses, stepping solemnly by the water. You step elsewhere now.

But I'm back in our woods. I run because that's always been the best way to pass this transition time, the time I'm too impatient to sit through for the wait and see. Leaves cover roots so I bounce lightly, more up and down than forward, but faster than I'd thought.

Take a bow.

No. Keep going.

These two legs will save me.

Star maps to the sun.

Light streaks through the trees and breaks against the orange, red, yellow--I break faster--

You're playing you now.

drive 'til morning comes

Tonight in my car I could drive anywhere. Upstate, that state, across states to sun rising on gold coast. What would you say if I came to your door? Tonight I believe I could do it, could go anywhere on $20 and half a tank.

i miss ya kido, im glad we got to see each other in the city when i was poor and on top of the world

But I shift so quickly. Give me an audience and I tumble faster and higher than I have since summer. The time gaps are never too wide. Gymnastics means more to me than most people. I will always burn to be upside down. To raise my face to the lights in time to the music. And so I will. Even in small gyms on Thursdays nights. There is no "until."

a smile...like a lighthouse on the tip of Long Island.

Tonight I dream about running and this one and that one and our friends coming together. All of these things matter.

bury your head

I move slowly on days when I only have one (well, two) jobs. I don't sleep well, keep waking to turn onto my side, my back, my side again. It all started post-surgery with my tremendous brace, when turning had to be conscious. I need new colors, new curves in the land, new thoughts.

But where projectors fail, Nutella takes its place. A spirited discussion. The nuclear wings. Strangely enough, I've got it together.

photos of snow

Nostalgia runs rampant lately.

11:11 a.m.

This morning as I fall back asleep, I see them in parachutes lifting up and away. Not me, though. Sometimes you're the soul, other times you're the body.

crack the sky

It's the day to run at 5:06 and finish at 5:46, but the music's so good that you keep moving. You walk a campus loop as Elton John sings "Tiny Dancer" in Australia and the sky burns orange, pink streaks puffing against soft blue. You remember what Dom wrote - the sky reflects the water - and you are alone, you are filled with light.

algunas cositas con respeto a las gimnastas hoy

-I'm definitely a fan of Lauren Mitchell; very cool beam set, and at least her floor choreography attempts to go with the music!
-Same to Ana Porgras.
-Beth Tweddle's "dance" was offensively bad. In fact, nonexistent. World champion how?
-Rebecca Bross and Bridget Sloan are good, but not anywhere near as captivating as the Shawn-Nastia rivalry. No spark from either of them.
-Sun Liu (sp?) may have indeed looked like "a little girl running around the playground with her friends," but her dance showed expression and creativity beyond two poses - jump - two poses - tumble - two poses - leap pass.
-And seeing Steve Legendre on TV = freakin' sweet!

Hey, Emeline

(Set to the tune of "Hey, Jude" --> check it!)

Dear Emeline (Body Mass, as Britt would have it),

Remember that time Beth convinced me it would be a good life decision to try out for cheerleading? And I made it? And you helped me get ready for my first game in secret, then texted your mom a picture? And then the next morning I slumped into the den and Tanya noticed that one of my pupils was dilated? So you made me hide my face in your pillow and then shone a light into my eye to see if it reacted? And then throughout the week you forwarded me information about strokes, most likely while you were working at the library desk and I was on the computers there?

:-)

12:12, for lack of better title

I walk up the sidewalk through softly rolling green hills, sun filtered through yellow and orange and feel here. Not elsewhere, not anyone else.

Lately I'm not really saying anything. But nothing's raced me to do so. No kicks, no slaps. Just murmurs. She asks how I am and I say solid and I realize that is the word. Four jobs make strange harmonious sense. I love teaching. Kaylee, Hannah, and Leah now have the potential to kick ass on bars. "I saw you jogging the other day," he says. Back to the highway, indeed.

But I wonder sometimes which of these things is fleeting.

on meteor night

Where do all the lost letters run? The ones that never appear in password boxes or love messages. The poems and song lyrics scribbled along class notes, those equations and quadrants soon forgotten. The ones that disappear after the screen turns black, face snapped shut. The ones we whispered each day, each night.

What songs do they sing now?

Pueblo

I am my father's daughter. I strike up conversations with the cleaning lady who talks of Mexico and I imagine planes descending on brown valley runway. I yell at the ones who think they can get away with anything. My voice rings from mat-padded wall. Oh, no, you can't, not anymore. I find joy in the repetition of step-step-step-step-step... on pavement and treadmill track in morning piercing light, in afternoon bluster, in dusk.

--

Every Friday feels nostalgic, or maybe I'm just too quick with copy/paste, or overtired enough to let the fall air rattle me. But this Saturday afternoon speeds by like the gusts against the clouds. I am here. I am happy.

Isn't it...

5.

jersey devils

At 4:45 am, I hear conversations in the hamster wheel, think about all the e's (and the hypen) in "re-elect," remember a handout on research that I can give to my students. Write this the next night at 3:13 am when my spelling and syntax's all right but my punctuation's just a little bit off and I'd best sleep before I say too much.

Yes, I crank that every day

I write you into corners where I'm the only one who sees you.

But today I prefer wide open spaces.

Today I miss typing a quick "experiment" for Monday morning. Miss wheat bagels with egg whites and Swiss cheese, and hot chocolate on the scandalous days. Blackboard stars and photo projects on the overhead, the pain for all to see. "Too many words." Quiet Adirondack waters. Emphatic nods. You and me laughing because we always felt the same. In a way, I miss the up-and-down every-day-an-adventure-in-joy-or-pain that moved the year. Miss the barely-unbroken girl with eyes to northern stars regardless.

Don't worry about the conclusion. Tell a story.

red and black

I walked into the bathroom of the Japanese restaurant and saw my hair in the mirror. Dark as it always was after a year of red. Black as clouds streaked over piercing moon. Don't you hurt my moon, you.

--

I took on too much but I've come to love it all, come to hold it close.

soul gusts

I feel like my freshmen: I want to sleep all day. Is it the orange juice that's giving me these strange dreams and no rest? Some night I'm cold as midwinter, but you know my season's always changing.

But I love this wind. Wild boisterous gusts sending leaves spinning and branches stumbling. The kind that blows straight into the soul.

sound of distant drumming

I need my mind to be thrown wide open.

these are the lives you'd love to lead

Throwing hands up for "We Built This City," talking about overseas, cramming onto trains, torn eardrums from MSG screaming, four hours of sleep from missed alarm, Caralyn's film debut, dance dance dance.

I needed this.

Notes next to pumpkin buckets

Today:

Woke up at 6:48 and never really returned to sleep. Purple eyeshadow (why not?). 111 -> LIE -> Nicolls = NEVER. AGAIN. But the red FAC/STAFF parking permit is probably the best thing that's happened to me. Ever. Learned of Ireland's debate over voting yes or no for the EU. Glad we could stimulate the economy (or, rather, buy cheap sandwiches and let Irish boys pay our admission to the discoteca -- oops!). Refrained from reading about heinous crimes. Learned that Chicago was out in round one. Learned that Rio won. Put together a newsletter. Brought my red hat just in case anyone was giving out free SBU stuff today. Did not score any such stuff. Ate pizza. Eavesdropped on enthusiastic Spanish conversation.

"You look so pretty with make-up on!" the girls said.

"Why'd you wear make-up today?" said Valentina, age 8.

"I wanted to look like an adult," I said.

"I think it makes you look younger," she said.

Nice.

Then Fame and my cousin on screen and in the credits! And now it's getting later and I'm getting more tired, but hell, it's Friday and I should be crying by now, especially since I have to get up the morning, no?

:-)

Consider You Stalked.

Oh, Google. You make this far too easy!

10.1.09

I love that it's October. Rolling thick gray-blue clouds. Wind swirling orange, red, yellow and rattling branches. But still sunlight, slanting shadows. Sweatshirts and smoke in air. Pumpkins, apple cider, giddy fear, spirit whispers.

Let this year be the one where I'm not sad.

closing tonight with a little MJ

I'd be in bed, but I like to end my days with a word.

Writeeditreadprintgo! --> to the post office as gray wind whips the canvas bag against me and an old man calls to me as he protests Obama's healthcare on the curb --> to the pen, to the sealed envelope, to Westhampton.

I've needed this momentum.

--

Tonight the clouds are glowing.