![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=88.8){kind=small}
The Old Verities and Truths
Aug. 24th, 2006
08:50 pm - There's a Place Called Downtown
Well, I went to Santa Fe with mom and Kylie for a few days and it was alright, but sort of disappointing in the way that Nantucket is; it's totally over-discovered and yuppified. At least, the Plaza and surrounding neighborhood are. In general, though, it's awesome to be out there in the middle of the desert (even if it did rain a lot for New Mexico), and we did a lot of driving through it -- over eight hours one day. I went to see St. John's, which went well, even though I was totally unprepared for the fact that there was actually time for an interview. It's strange to be continuing part of that well=practiced process again under such different circumstances: I told the director of admissions upfront that I had an 0.8 in my Freshman year, and didn't wince in saying it. I guess I'm in such a certainly bad spot application-wise that I don't have to be anxious. The curriculum includes a great deal more math -- by way of Euclid and others -- than I expected, but the idea of learning only from firsthand examination of original works is hugely encouraging.
I flew into SeaTac airport at 11:30PM and had to take a shuttle down to Tacoma (I wanted to be in the city when I woke up, or I could have stayed at the airport and taken cheaper public transportation in the morning); the lucky thing about this was that the guy who played Milton in Office Space was my driver. Not actually that guy, I guess, but he certainly talked and looked like him, and he managed to get lost on the way to the first two passengers' destinations. This left me with only Ricky, a truckdriver from Arkansas who used to own his own trucking company but preferrs frelance driving to the headaches of entrepreneurship. He thinks I should apply to JB Hunt or one of them other big boys, because they pay you to train for your CDL A License and then immediately let you drive. He has been home for, he says, thirty minutes in the past three months, mostly on account of "gettin' suckered in t' pullin school buses up fr'm Lou-siana by one of the steel companies." Obviously. Anyway, that guy was great, and it's just because of the docks and the railyards and the truck depots that I'm moving to Tacoma next week.
I woke up at 7:30, got a free cup of coffee, and rode the free light rail into downtown y 8:00. I walked around the Stadium district and took numbers off apartment buildings until 9 and then started making calls. I took the sixth one I saw, after a half-hour break to check my e-mail at the spankin' new public library. It's great, and I'm thrilled, so I won't go into it now. The idea of moving somewhere by myself hasn't scared me yet, but I imagine that it will before too long; what's worse is having to explain why I'm doing it. I don't know what to say except that I've totally romanticized the idea of the Northwest and Portland and Seattle are just too expensive for me, let alone the fact that they have job markets favoring, ahem, college graduates. Tacoma is a little dirty (not in the environmental sense, though; it's really very "green"), a little "re-emerging," and overcast, while at the same time having a disproportionate number of live music venues and free wifi hotspots. The coffee is as good as in Seattle, without executive prices. There are a lot of bums. Most of the "downtown" area is built on a steep hill that slopes down to the Thea Foss Waterway, and you can see factory smoke and container cranes for a mile across the sound. My little one bedroom apartment is on the north end of the Theater District (so named for the three theaters in the area) and looks south across the rest of the city from a pair of seventh-floor windows.
As to working, I picked up some local papers to look for jobs, and I found a few that I was interested in. Unfortunately I didn't really have time to act on any because I came back last night (leaving at midnight and going through Dallas), so I will probably spend my first week or so in town cobbling together enough hours to pay for rent and food. Speaking of, does anyone who reads this buy their own food? I'm guessing that $75 a week will do for groceries but I would appreciate your opinions as well. This is harder than packing for Conn, because I can't just have someone drive things down, and because I need pots and plates and a bed, etc.
Speaking of Conn, I'm going to bring Graham's stuff down and kick it with him and Kate for a day or two before picking my rug up and coming home. Hectic times are these.
excitedAug. 7th, 2006
01:07 pm - Long As Night
So I've been having some really bizarre dreams. Last night I was in an airplane (like, a commercial airliner) piloted by Neil Young; we were diving straight towards the front doors of my house and I turned to the girl next to me, said "I've done this before - it hurts," and assumed the crash position. Oddly, there was a sense of joviality and not at all of dread as we hurtled towards the ground. Then our Canadian pilot banked the plane hard to the right just barely squeezed us through the open doorway: pulling up on the yoke and rolling back to the left, he burst through the rear bank of windows and up over the patio. Needless to say, I was relieved! Imagine my surprise, though, when the maverick airman turned right around and dove through the big arched window in my living room and barrel-rolled out the veranda doors and back over the orchard.
Later on my dad was picking me up at a Mobil station, and I said to him "want to see my new tatoo?" Laughing, he expressed his desire that I might do so.
I pulled up the denim on my left leg and there on my calf was a blue teddybear with three yellow stars clustered around its head. I was mildly disappointed, as I had somehow been expecting a much cooler-looking tat, but knowing that demonstrating this regret would only prove Dad's position that people do stupd things when they're drunk, I chuckled, "Ha! I was really wasted!" Uncharacteristically, pa snorted his own trademarked laugh and we drove off.
I've also had some less whimsical, more distressing dreams. The kind that when you wake up and realize that they didn't happen make you say "thank goodness that didn't happen!"
Today I woke up as camp dropoff was starting, and I just called in sick because I didn't want to deal with explaining where I was. That's OK. I could use the dollars, but camp is getting tiresome anyway except for Mike, Will, and Jonah (and my kickass group counselors, Danielle, Molly, Jess, Nathan and Emily all in particular, who don't read this). I don't like the silly lots-of-people and Beirut parties that they have, especially because I ususally show up stoned and am not good company to anyone except the gentlemen above. I'm not so bothered though, because I have other things to spend my time doing. Most importantly, I have to figure out what the balls I am going to do next year, which I suppose I might post about later. Also, I have been on a Limewire tear, having tripled my Uncle Tupelo collection, added Son Volt albums, Townes Van Zandt tracks multifarious, OCMS that I didn't know existed, the rest of a Palace Brothers album, a Wallflowers album (who knew?), as well as assorted Carla Bruni and Yves Montand. I also just got The Court & Spark's Witch Season and The Ultimate Best of Serge Gainsbourg, Initials S.G. with a B&N gift card from my birthday, so I have very happy ears.
I have grown very lonely, and with Nicola and Austin leaving within 24 hours of each other.. well, not that I saw much of either, but it's still a discomfort, you know? Loneliness and langour have combined to make me restless as well, and that's probably for the best as it means that I'm putting the appropriate ammount of effort into getting out of Harvard by September. Not that life at home hasn't been nice, actually: I've been getting on famously with my parents and even better with Kylie, the food is good and free, the rules are loose and infrequently cited, and my bed is both comfy and cozy. I watched a good deal of westerns last month, but quickly exhausted the local Blockbuster's collection, so fell into a lull. I just rented The Big Sleep and am very excited about watching it, though it's hard to make myself do so alone. I also got a kickass Townes Van Zandt DVD for my birthing which I have yet to watch. Went to the library the other day and it made me miss Conn -- just a little.
anxiousMay. 19th, 2006
08:37 pm - I'm in Love with Modern Moonlight
It is very good to be home. I spent two real relaxing days with Graham, dropped by CA to be snubbed by David Rost, bowled for great times with Austin, and brought all my shit up into my room. I haven't started actually unpacking all the boxes and bags of course, because that's obviously too formidable a task to start until I get back from Wisconsin (tomorrow I am flying out to attend my cousin's HS Graduation party). After running for five days in a row, I haven't done so in the past two, which is disappointing. It's amazing how just a week of physical activity can make me feel healthier. Now that Graham's peaced out, I'm also going to grape diet.
Last night Graham helped me record my video diary thing for Good Morning America, who are interviewing the rest of my family for this piece about divorce and alternative ways of handling it. My parents switch off houses rather than making the kids do so, which is appparently revolutionary. Anyway, the taping was pretty silly and the show airs on May 31st if any of you are awake for it. I will be, because I really want to see what silliness those three got into while I was away.
Speaking of, it has been very nice to be home now that I don't have the stress of school hanging over me. Mom has been really cool about it, and as helpful as she can be in starting to plan for next year. I haven't seen my dad much, which is cool, and my sister has turned from the cranky duckling into a beautiful, mildly articulate and generally agreeable swan. All in all Harvard is a very healthy-feeling place right now and it's nice to sit around in the sun or night and eat fresh, abundant food. The dogs are hilarious; because of the rain our groundsman hasn't been around, so the grass is really long, and Maggie has literally been grazing in front of the house, eating her way through the lawn. Goat dog.
Right now I'm watching the Sox game and thinking about things I could do or places I could go next semester. I'm still thinking about doing the WWOOF thing for a couple months, or maybe moving somewhere totally different like Olympia or Austin and working for a while. If I work around here it's going to be difficult because 1) there aren't many opportunities for employment in Harvard, MA, and 2) the Warlock has to be shared with my sister.
So I have to go empty the chiminea and pack some for Wisconsin, and maybe watch some more of the Sox game. And Unforgiven, which I rented with Graham but did not have the opportunity to watch.
Should I get a mohawk or a beard? pick one.
energeticMay. 16th, 2006
12:30 am - "Don't Let Us Catch You: You Owe Us Your Life."
It's been raining for a week in compensation for the beautiful end of April; the shapes of amber lamplit dogwoods through the fog resolve into creamy pink explosions until you're upon them and each dying petal drips drops into the wet grass. I'm leaving this flowering hellhole on Wednesday, and I'm not coming back.
As happens seemingly every time I write here, there is much too much to be discussed at the speed I write. If my thoughts lent themselves more readily to prose, I would describe April in great detail, making mention of my pseudo-religious experience on mushrooms (laugh if you like. There was a rainbow in front of a fucking thunderstorm, with lightning. On the other side of the sky was a beautiful sunny day, and all around spring was breaking on the Arboretum. Then it hailed.) and the festivities surrounding 4/20. I would talk about my job tutoring "Special-Ed" kids at a public Elementary school and about the elderly Methodist Pastor from St. Thomas who was their teacher. I would relate amusing anecdotes regarding my Major adviser and his uncanny resemblance to Frodo Baggins. In all likelihood, I would talk about Floralia -- Conn's big spring festival -- and the bluegrassrock band that opened at noon and played Abbey House at midnight; they played an OCMS song to which I was the only one in the place who knew the lyrics, and along with which I belted strung-out verse after verse until I was hoarse. Other than that, I smoked weed, was seasonally allergic and respiratorily afflicted for about a month, and started a fresh round of psychotropic medication. That would about catch us up.
Last Wednesday night, I called my mother in a panic and told her that I couldn't do this anymore. She finally relented, and I won't be enrolling at Conn next year for either semester. Ken Bleeth, my Teichgraber of a hobbit and fast friend, was very encouraging and shared stories about a similar situation in his young academic life.
At this point I have suddenly "run out of gas," and am feeling very resistant towards writing any more. This is clearly because the subject matter to be covered is emotionally exhausting, and not because I'm actually, physically, tired. My golldang computer charger cable has been crimped and no longer functions reliably. Marc would be disappointed.
This brings me to the only real regret I have about giving up, which is the uninformed disapproval of people I respect. I told myself that "hey, if people don't like it they can go jump in a lake," but quickly enough realized that my concern stems from a personal insecurity which is reasonable enough. I don't know exactly what I'm going to do this summer, next semester, or ever, and this is worrisome for someone who has when you think about it followed the proscribed course of development fairly complacently until now.
Wow, I have some much to write that I'm going to have to dispense with style and grammar (if I haven't already) in order to get it all out before June.
So this whole thing is partially an outgrowth of that whole "Direction to Withdraw" debacle back in January; I have slacked of to new heights this semester, and will likely fail three classes unless I can get an Incomplete in one (something I really don't want to do because I want to go home and Be Done). Because of this I won't be allowed to return next year whether I want to or not, but until last week there was still the chance that I could have turned in enough major assignments to pass everything with some fanagling from the Dean. Unfortunately I almost reverted to cutting again over an English paper, and that was when I realized that this was totally crazy, and that I was right a year ago when I wanted to take time off. What do I do now? I'd like to work, and I'd like to travel. Hopefully I'll do both by working on family farms in Europe for room, board, and Sundays off. I'd like to read, and now I have time to do that. Also, I have really stopped smoking cigarettes in a big way, and am really cutting back on the weed. I have been running every day and thinking about taking up yoga with my mom who, by the way, came down today to pick some stuff up and was so supportive and big-picture that I thought she was fucking with me. In related news, I am still not talking to my father, but his birthday is coming up on the 21st and as I'll be moving back into the Harvard house for the summer I'll probably have to deal with that at some point. As for the summer, I'm going to have a good chunk of time before camp starts now that we've scrapped production for Compassion Play, and I need to find something to fill that time. Graham will be coming up for a couple of days after school gets out, so maybe some of you will get a chance to meet one of the 5 or 10 good things I can name about Conn.
I will write again soon, if you're interested.
Good luck on finals, travel safely, and I look forward to seeing everyone. I just realized that I'm sweating, and that's really gross.
quixoticMar. 23rd, 2006
08:50 pm - Queer Paris
Paris should probably have been cooler. I don't know what my deal is. I really enjoyed it, I guess, but I feel like I should have been totally blown away by travelling on my own or something. It just seemed very ordinary to me: maybe it was the rain. I eventually managed to hang out with Nicola on the last day (and of course when I left at 7:45 this morning [1:45 for most of you] it was beautifully sunny and warming right up. I considered staying an extra day, but this developing cold would have made that mildly unpleasant), and ate dinner with her Dad and his Fiancee. Today in JFK Int'l while I waited for my Eagle flight to Boston, I asked a guy for a light in French. It was pretty cute, I guess? Anyway, perhaps more time would have done the trick, or if my toes hadn't been cold the whole time. Am feeling very down all of a sudden in any case, and am very comfortable blaming it on the French.
What I am very excited about is returning to my English class, and producing this film with Julian.
I got my new MDR-V600 headphones when I came home. This is my patented "order something before you leave so that you have something to look forward to at home" strategy, and it sounds great. Now I just have to wait to get back to Kate, Graham, and school. There are much worse things I could be looking forward to.
discontentFeb. 1st, 2006
03:32 pm - Vitamins + Water = All You Need
So it's Wednesday? Looks awfully dreary outside, but in an exciting sort of way. I just watched Gimme Shelter with Kate, which was pretty cool. Today is our Five Month Anniversary! I think we're going to rent a movie and order out. I still don't have an ATM card, so hopefully she'll spot me.
I'm going home Friday afternoon and will just spend the night. I have to pick up some stuff that I left at home (none of which is actually important enough to justify the <24hrs round trip) and like, lie in bed for a while. The idea of going home is not an appealing one for the usual reasons, but it will at least be a nice break from here.
Apologies for the hasty composition, but I was drilled the last time I made an effort. Peace be with all of you, et cetera.
discontentJan. 29th, 2006
04:52 pm - It Won't Even Snow
Today is that sort of day which, if I can stop thinking about Latin and turning twenty, warmly reminds me of Tuesdays at home in Harvard before Concord meant anything other than half of a two-hundred-years-old battle. It's raining on the lawn behind Harkness, and I can tell that the dark brown bark on the tangled trees is sort of slimy; even the tips of the tiniest twigs on their branches look round and blunt. It is not a good day for rainforest crunch, playdates, or unearthing slate "fossils" from the cold stream back in the woods. The best time for doing that is in early April, when the melting snow swells the stream to a suitably challenging volume for young boys intent on finishing their dam before the light fades and the small gnats mourn among the river sallows and one of them has to go home because it's a school night. Today the white pines are dripping beadlets of rain and the woods smell like the wet leaves that carpet the whole slope along the stone wall, past the hollow stump and around the pond: going outside would mean cold toes, wet socks, and muddy boots. Today maybe Mom would have made Earl Grey tea and we might have sat in the kitchen eating homemade muffins and talking about third grade and whether I had art or music. It was actually on a day like today that I had a substitute in art because Tom Seiling had OD'd and no one found him until two days later when the superintendant went to check on him.
okayJan. 19th, 2006
03:50 pm - L'Aventura
I have decided that waking up at 2:30 and listening to my entire Modest Mouse collection is not a wise way to spend the rest of my break. It's like being at school and smoking lots of weed all the time, only less fun and more lonely. This afternoon, however, I took a really great shower, so maybe that's a step in the right direction. While I was towlin' off my sister asked if I'd like to go for a run and I was so embarassed at the prospect of being outpaced that I mumbled about "having to take care of some things." I do have to do some laundry, so I guess that'll burn some time.
Last night I went to see L'Aventura at the Brattle with Tom and Sara'o. Even aside from the comfortable nostalgia I already feel wandering around the square, I had a really nice time. It's not so much that I forgot I liked those boys, but merely that I haven't hung out with either of them much at all since months and months ago; still, as pleasant as it is to fall back into high school friendships with such interesting people, they provide perhaps to clear a mirror for my liking. I feel like I have changed very little at Conn. So we watched the movie, which is a really fantastic film but not at all what I was in the mood for last night -- unfortunate, as it is 145 minutes of stillness -- besides which the projection was a little off. Then we went to Charlie's which was yummy, but I felt like I had to force conversation and I felt bad because obviously if people aren't talkative it's because they don't like me or ar upset at me etc. Tom's band is playing a show tonight that I'm going to try and go to if Nicola still has an ID.
Previous plans and father have conspired to keep me in Massachusetts tonight, which keeps me from going to a party at Chelsea's with the other two boyfriends. I feel guilty, which I'm pissed off about, but it's just because I'd like to be with Katherine. Unfortunately I can't attend the Kolenda open house tomorrow night either, on account of dinner at the Capitol Grill with my mom. The finishing move in this devestating combo is the fact that the dorms open at 9AM on Sunday, which came as a surprise to me and further delays seeing Kate and friends. And Pat. I guess not really Pat, because she probably won't be in the office until early Monday.
I am reading a book called A Time of Gifts that not only really resonates with me but is exciting and well-written. "I like songs about drifters, books about the same: they both seem to make me feel a little less insane." Maybe I should just marry Isaac Brock. Speaking of media I'm enjoying, I know I've advocated Questionable Content before, but really: Episode 538 stands on its own (unlike most of the strips, which really require having read the backstory) and you would all be amused: Look At This Fucking Cat. Back to this book, though, it's about a guy who just barely makes it out of a British prep school and then decides to take a boat to the Netherlands and walk to Constantinople. Holy shit. My mom gave it to me for Christmas, I think because I'm considering a semester or year "off," though with all intentions of returning to school. Because I've been gone so much I haven't gotten to talk to many of you about that: do you think it's a good idea for me? I'd appreciate input if you have time or interest. I have to go clean clothes.
anxiousNavigate: (Previous 8 Entries)
