Objectivism

"Do you mean to tell me that you're thinking seriously of building that way, when and if you are an architect?"
"Yes."
"My dear fellow, who will let you?"
"That's not the point. The point is, who will stop me?"

-Ayn Rand
The Fountainhead

It's been a while.

Hello again, old friends.

"I've been to the zoo."

This is my "Prepare to be whipped, English midterm paper!" face.

I'd say Edward Albee ain't got nothin' on me, especially since it rhymes so nicely, but he's a brilliant playwright and I'm even more enamored with The Zoo Story than I was with Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf. (Is that even possible?) I suppose, then, that I will merely say I hope that my analysis does his work even the smallest bit of justice.

But actually.

Chorus:

"    O the generations of men
the dying generations - adding the total
of all your lives I find they come to nothing...
                   does there exist, is there a man on earth
who seizes more joy than just a dream, a vision?
And the vision no sooner dawns than dies
blazing into oblivion."

-excerpt, Oedipus the King
SOPHOCLES

Little One

This is only to say that I
apologize
whole heartedly
for my earlier
)indiscretion(
and furthermore
request the presence of
the soft
palms
and smooth
skin
of your hands  
                        [within] 
        my own.


Do pardon my
forwardness,
but subtleties evade me
and
I cannot (contain)
my innate
desire
to align   
  myself
once more
with  
                        you.

Goodnight.

little thing

Yesterday Nicole, one of the seniors in Jack, or the Submission, told me that she is really happy that I am doing the show with them. I worked with Nicole last spring in Skin of Our Teeth, but hearing her tell me that, of her own volition, made my day, and possibly my week. And it made me really, really happy.

I feel like I might be finally coming to the right place within this theatre major of mine.

10 Years

Start to forgive.
Never forget.
Find peace.
Always love.

good things

I just received an e-mail from the stage manager for Jack, or the Submission. I've been cast as Jacqueline! Our first rehearsal is this Monday night and I am so thrilled to start my second show ever with the theatre department, and to get to work so closely with so many brilliant seniors, including Bryna, the director.

Yesterday I also auditioned for the other theatre department show this semester, The Servant of Two Masters. Roger Babb (with whom I worked on Skin of Our Teeth) is adapting the play into a musical, but since there are non-musical parts, he said I could audition without singing. So I did, and then at the end of my readings, he asked me to sing. I politely refused, but he somehow finagled me into it. When I told him I didn't have any singing material prepared, he told me that I should sing whatever song came to mind. Then I said, "Roger, I've had a song stuck in my head for the last 24 hours but it's really inappropriate" -- to which he replied, "Just sing it anyway." So I did. And I sang the chorus to this. Yes, I know, really embarrassing. After I finished singing, Roger sat quietly (leaving me to think I was about to be dismissed from the theatre for good) until he said, "I like that song." I promptly followed this remark by clarifying that I had not, in fact, just had sex. (The musical director, Brendan Connelly, who is also my "Sound Design" professor, joked that he wasn't so sure.) This is a terribly long story, I know, but it was funny in the moment and still funny now, at least to me.

Anyway, after my full audition ended, Roger came to speak with me about callbacks for his show. He wanted to call me back but he also knew that I had auditioned for Bryna's show, so he asked me which I would prefer to be cast in if they both wanted me. We talked for a bit and decided that Bryna's show would be a better fit in my schedule (which is true), but he also told me that he considers me to be the next in a [somewhat exclusive] line of student actors in the department that he trusts and that he always knows he can use somewhere, somehow in his shows. Basically this meant he compared me with Jane Bradley (Sabina in Skin of Our Teeth) and Bryna and all of the other exceedingly talented seniors. I don't know if Roger knows it, but he made my day with that comment.

I was so overcome with surprise (and excitement) that Roger likes me as an actress that I blurted out, "Will you be my advisor?" before I could really think about the timing of my question. He's in the middle of auditions for a huge, 18th-century musical, he's set to leave for sabbatical in January, and he is already advising about half of this year's graduating theatre majors. But I've been meaning to ask for a while now, and not because I dislike my current advisor: she heads the department and has an adorable British accent, but she also focuses on set and costume design, whereas I plan to focus on performance. Since Roger is one of the two directors in the department, I know he's a better fit for me. So I asked the question and (again to my welcomed surprise) he said yes! All I have to do is fill out an advisor-change form and I am good to go. It seems strange now but I had been dreading asking him, maybe because up until yesterday I still felt unsure as to my working relationship with Roger. Our discussion yesterday, however, has made me feel 110% better about my standing within the department or, at the very least, my standing with Roger.

Enough about the theatre department, though! Classes started Wednesday and I accidentally missed my first class of the semester, due to a faulty alarm. It was my "Modern American Drama" class at UMass, the very first course I'm taking off-campus, and I slept through the bus time I was supposed to make. Whoops. Luckily Leanne is in the lecture with me (I am so happy!) and she said I didn't miss much. I also feel I should somewhat redeem myself by confirming that I did, indeed, make it to the discussion section of this class yesterday. I also feel I should thank my saint of a mother for calmly taking two semi-hysterical phone calls regarding my trials and tribulations with UMass and its campus. (Thank you!)

The rest of my courses, all at Mount Holyoke, seem really interesting as well! I have a required course on tutoring for writing, which I have to complete in order to work at the Speaking, Arguing, and Writing Center next semester. I am enrolled in two theatre courses: "Histories of Performance," which apparently is the death of some aspiring theatre majors, and "Sound Design for Theatre and Film," which after only one class I know I am going to love! I am also taking a gender studies course called "Politics of Abortion," taught by a professor from Latin America and focusing on abortion laws in North and South America. The reading load for the class is quite heavy, although unfortunately I have found this to be a common theme among most (read: 4 out of 5) of my courses.

Admittedly I feel slightly nervous that I may have overcommitted myself this fall, since I now have a theatre practicum (Jack) and I am also secretary of Project: Theatre (I'm so excited for the season to start!) and I'm copyediting for the newspaper and working on the lit mag. Maybe it doesn't sound like much, but it feels like a lot, and I did contemplate dropping an academic course to even everything out. I can't pick one that I would willingly drop, though! They're all far too interesting. I suppose I will just sell my soul to academia for the next four months.

I realize I have rambled for some time now about theatre and courses and things that are likely of little or no interest to anyone else, and I apologize. Here's to hoping that whoever may be reading this is happy, healthy, and enjoying life right now. And for those of you at school, have a great fall semester!

Cat

Auditions for Jack, or the Submission are tonight and I'm more than a little nervous. Absurdist theatre is simultaneously brilliant to watch and terrifying to initially interpret.

dial tone

Are you really this afraid to be the first to break the silence?

I've met so many new people

in just five days here! I love being back at school, much more than I thought I would.

Honesty

Tonight you told me how uncommonly straightforward you are with me.
It's about time I returned the favor.
Maybe you'll see this, or maybe you won't, but here's my truth:
I am so glad to have a friend like you.
And I am so happy with us as we are, too.

if you won't let me

Today's song is "Ain't No Way" by Aretha Franklin, simply because it feels so very true right now.

I know that a woman's duty
is to help and love a man
and that's the way it was planned--
oh, but how can I
give you all the things I can
if you're tying both of my hands?

I wish you wouldn't keep screwing things up.

Love is love.
Why can't you understand how simple things could be?

Catch-Up

This afternoon I came home from work and within minutes felt inexplicably, rather embarrassingly lonely. I don't know what exactly was the cause. I have an idea, but its acknowledgement would mean I have once again taken ten steps backwards in a relationship I have been attempting to define and redefine for years now.

Not knowing what to do, or who to speak with, I called my friend Kaitlin, with whom I have spent the summer working through my internship at The Landmark. Luckily she was free, and we met up at the Bagel Inn for an impromptu, late lunch. It was delicious as always, and I was so glad to get to see Kait once more before I leave for school on Wednesday. She is adorable and we have become close over the past few months. She let me vent about all of my unresolved problems, something I was both hoping would happen but also not expecting. She is such a great listener and such a sweetheart, and she cheered me up immensely in a matter of minutes. We spent the next hour just chatting about life - events, people, places. It was nice and exactly what I needed at the time. Kait, if you are reading this, you are an absolute doll and I am so very lucky to have met you this summer! Thank you for this afternoon. Really, truly, thank you.

I skyped with Lu tonight and it was nice to see her and hear her pretty voice again. She's only been gone for a week now but I already feel her absence tremendously. Every day I wish I could see her and give her a big hug and laugh with her and share the little moments that usually comprise our time together. It was nice to speak with her, though, and see how happy she is to be back in North Carolina. I know she was dreading leaving us behind to head back to High Point, but I also knew that she would be absolutely fine once she actually settled back down into college life, and she completely is, and I am so glad for her. I am already counting down the days until Thanksgiving weekend! Only 99 days to go.

It is now 11:00 p.m. My entire family has gone off to our respective bedrooms, making tonight one of the quietest summer evenings yet. I'm lying in bed, about to watch "Doubt" with Meryl Streep and Amy Adams. I have been meaning to see the film for a while now, especially since I love the play and actually did some scene work from the original script with my friend Ashley for a theatre class this spring. It is not by any means the happiest of films with which to end my day, but I think it's due at the library soon, and I don't feel very tired yet, so I figure now is as good a time as any to watch it. The entire main cast earned Oscar nominations, so I know at the very least that it will be fantastic.

I really want to phone someone right now but I am pretty sure my call will be less than well received. I always overthink things, though, so maybe the resistance I perceive to be real is merely my own worries coalescing into one giant mess.

We shall see.

Only six days until I head back to Mount Holyoke. Parting is bittersweet and something I am simultaneously dying for and dreading with all of my being.

u-s

I wish you missed me the way I miss you.
Actually, I really just wish you missed me at all.

How I felt today.

Tomorrow will be better, I hope.

descent, decline, desertion.

My heart drops
a little lower in my stomach
each time
I see the spark in your eyes
because
more often
than not
it flickers only
when you recall
a moment you spent
with her.

Shelf Life

Going back to school will be a welcomed change, if only because it will allow me to place you on a shelf and force myself to let the dust gather.

I have spent too many months picking you up from this makeshift display in my mind and my fingerprints have wearied the few spots where particles have had the chance to even begin collecting.

Show and tell is not meant for one
and you have been showing and telling to someone else
for longer than I readily admit.

verse redux

It is often said that artists, as a whole, are tortured souls. Surely this is not something that can be easily contested. Quite frankly, it really cannot be refuted at all. Just look at Van Gogh.

But I have been reading a slew of my favorite poetry collections lately, and I am starting to believe- really, truly and with my whole being- that poets are by far the most tormented when it comes to love.

In this I am as much a poet as I ever have been before.

Numb

There are so many reasons to be happy right now.
I can think of them
but I cannot seem
to force
the happiness.

This I Know

All I want is to feel love and share love and find that same love returned to me with overwhelming truth.

I am absolutely terrified that this will never happen. Six years into my own history of spreading the contents of my heart, I have found that the scars left behind far outweigh most of the infectious energy and beautiful, simplistic affection with which my best relationships were filled.

As soon as each pair of me and him breaks, I lose another tiny sliver of myself, bits and pieces of me that take far longer to heal than they do to splinter. I am in a constant process of recovery, one that I worry will never cease. Every time I near a mended version of myself - as close to my original, innocent, and blissfully naïve self as I can reasonably expect to return - I am somehow swept back into this ever-deepening whirlpool of romance and risk and (or so my fears convince me) eventual pain.

At the same time, I believe adamantly that not every person's experience is so excruciating. I have friends in relationships with staggering constancy and commitment. I know that kind of unconditional, devoted love is possible.

I just do not know why some people have a much more difficult time tracking it down. What makes one person easier to cheat on than another? Surely having the unfortunate ability to claim oneself as a victim of infidelity is not uncommon, though if the sanctity of the word "love" meant to everyone anything at all, affairs would never occur. Still, I cannot help but wonder what it is about me that has allowed three men, on four different occasions, to so surreptitiously seek the company of another while still promising sweet, despicable nothings to their blind, all too trusting girlfriend.

It is a weakness to trust too easily but still more of a weakness to withhold trust completely. Where is the middle ground? Would adjusting my level of faith in others achieve anything, or would nothing at all change?

I have said "I love you" to more than one person, and the triad of words is not one that I use loosely. I live and breathe each and every syllable:
"I," me, the broken girl with an injured spirit
"love," so totally and with abandon
"you," whoever that wonderful boy may be.

I have said "I love you" multiple times and despite reciprocity of the phrase - despite seeming reciprocity through actions and feelings and intrinsic connections - I am always the last to love. His love has always expired, has always run dry well before my own has even begun to plateau.

I leave every relationship, or, more correctly, am left at the end of every relationship, with love to spare, more and more and more to give, and no one willing to receive my gift genuinely.

Even now I am bursting with love, so very much of it that sometimes I do honestly feel like I might explode. Over the years, bruises have piled themselves on top of each other, my body becoming simultaneously immune to the shock yet more sensitive with each additional blow.

Now I love silently. I allow my love to pulse within me, through my veins, through my arteries, leaving my heart and returning once more, always, to my heart and only mine. The hardest truth I know right now is that my greatest love, my most beautiful, my most painful, my most honest, is also the most hopeless love I have ever harbored.

I love and love and love. For years now I have held this love quietly within me. Every fiber of my being wishes to scream out exactly how I feel, and yet every time the opportunity finds me, something convinces me otherwise.

I know he knows and while an unspoken understanding might and should make this heavy burden easier to bear, there exists a distinct unwillingness to even approach the love floating, more so straining, to find equilibrium between me and him.

I love you. Will you ever let me tell you?

dry valves

Is it possible to run out of love?
In some ways I feel completely drained of it.

heavy

hearted.

At the end of every day

this is how I want to feel.

ninety-eight percent

My blood is warm
in two very different ways.

Rationalize this:
why I should not
tell you
I love you.

Kibo

Today a giraffe kissed me three times. It was the most amazing moment of my life.

west, wild.

Ahhh I am loving my family vacation! I have so many pictures and I cannot wait to upload them to my computer so that I can share them. We have seen so many amazing, beautiful things. We drove up to Utah last weekend and hiked both Zion National Park and Bryce Canyon. We have been in Flagstaff, Arizona since Tuesday and I love it here! This is our third trip to the state and it has yet to get old. Yesterday we went to see the Grand Canyon; the last two times we visited Arizona, we came in February and the cloud cover over the G.C. was too thick to see anything. So we were so excited to finally check it out. It was breathtaking and so huge! Of the three canyons we visited, though, I have to say that Zion was by far my favorite - the colors were just brilliant.

Today I bought a beautiful piece of Navajo jewelry in Oak Creek Canyon, just outside of Sedona. It's a stunning sterling silver band with an oval stone set on top - Mediterranean coral. SO BEAUTIFUL! I love it, I love it, I love it. The woman who helped me pick out my ring was named Brenda and she was so gorgeous and sweet. We talked for a bit and she asked where I go to school and when I told her, she told me that she actually used to live in Northampton! Small world, right? :)

Tomorrow we are spending the day around Flagstaff, and then on Sunday we are visiting a wildlife reserve. I cannot waitttttttttt!

Dead End

When did you let our friendship turn from wonderful reciprocity to a static one-way mess?

Outstretched

Some of my friends give the best hugs.

Hot Off the Press

79-year-old Marilyn Hyson.

This summer I have been working as an intern at the Landmark in Holden. For those who read this blog but don't know what that is, the Landmark is the local newspaper for the Wachusett region, which includes the towns of Holden, Paxton, Princeton, Rutland, and Sterling. I applied in January to work as an intern, stating that my greatest interest was in copyediting.

Now a month into my internship, I have spent the least amount of my time as a copyeditor. Rather, Josh (my boss) has had me cover a number of stories in the area. In all honesty, although I was not originally planning on doing much reporting, I am really happy with the work I have been doing. Interviews are fun and I love to meet new people so I feel as if the benefits are twofold.

This past week, while covering an event at the Holden Senior Center, Kaitlin (my fellow intern) and I met the most amazing woman. Her name is Marilyn Hyson and she will be 80 this December. The remarkable thing about her, however, is neither her age nor her impressive abilities as a pianist. What is remarkable about Marilyn is that she lost her memory at age 38, and spent the next forty years recovering everything that she lost.

Her inspiring story made the front page of this week's paper, and I am so ecstatic, not just because Kaitlin and I wrote the piece, but also because Marilyn finally gets to share her incredible story with thousands of readers.

bare necessities

Today I hung out with Lu for the afternoon. We mostly just lazed by the pool, soaking up some vitamin D while we talked and talked and talked. Eventually we went to Rota Springs, where we grabbed some (as always) delicious ice cream and talked and talked. (I also managed to run into one of the tent poles on our way back to the car. My nose smacked right into the metal and it felt like it broke, but I think it is just bruised. I spent a good hour icing it so hopefully it won't be too purple tomorrow.) We spent the remainder of the day watching "Cash Cab" but also talking some more, and then we went to pick up dinner and we talked and talked there too.

This is not an unusual way for us to spend a day together. Quite honestly, this is normal, not just for me and Laura, but for all of our other friends, too. I will go see a movie with Katie but then end up back at her house gabbing for two hours straight about anything and everything. Leanne and I have racked up countless hours of conversation in much the same manner. Even group get-togethers follow the same general format. We congregate, we eat a bit, maybe we play a board game, but we always, always end up talking. Just talking.

And I love it. I love that we have the ability to not need to do anything when we are together. Talking is not only enough, it is more than enough. Maybe some people find this style of socialization lazy or doldrum. I beg to differ. I do plenty of fun and exciting things with my friends. But always, always there is that element of conversation that I so look forward to. Without exception, I leave any and every get-together feeling calm and happy and closer with my friends than I was before. I am so lucky to be so unequivocally content with such simpleness. I am lucky that, while I am with my friends, I do not feel as if I need to do more than talk or be more than I am.

Other facets of my life are much less elementary, but to have at the very least this one, beautifully uncomplicated thing is a gift I will never take for granted.

Happy Fathers' Day!

Especially to my own amazing dad. I love you!

Recap

Last night, Laura and I went to see Leanne in her opening night performance of the show "A Hotel on Marvin Gardens." It has been an inordinately long amount of time since I have last been able to watch her perform, and she did such a beautiful job! She made me laugh, delivered her monologues with gusto and precision, and did the sexiest wet hair toss I have ever seen. ;) I am really proud of her.

Today I worked at the EcoTarium. It was the first time  I have been there since the news about Kenda was released to the public, and there was definitely a noticeable change in mood. Everyone was still cheerful, of course, and quite excited to be at the museum, but sad smiles were passed between fellow employees and every now and then a guest would ask about her death or acknowledge her passing. It was a sad feeling, but also one of respect and memory. We have received tons of e-mails from Worcester-area residents telling stories about having "grown up" with Kenda ever since they were little, ever since she was born in 1983. Twenty-seven years is an extremely long time, especially for a polar bear, and she left behind a huge void, one which we are nowhere near ready to start filling. (Rumors are already circulating that we are getting penguins. PENGUINS! Cute idea, but untrue.)

I lost my favorite ring last night, a vintage piece from my great grandmother. It is silver with a red stone, beautiful beautiful beautiful, and I am so upset that I cannot find it anywhere. I keep hoping maybe it will turn up, but I think truthfully I am less optimistic and more so unwilling to admit it has disappeared. (If I did admit this to myself, I might cry.)

I am tired but, reflecting on my day, I am content with the work I did (and frankly looking forward to my paycheck next week). I think I will stay in tonight, hang out with my family, and maybe watch a little "Veronica Mars." My mum is baking a ham for dinner and the smell has wafted up through the Juliet window in our family room and into my room and it smells deeeeelicious Iamsohungry.

I had fun Thursday night, too. I have already said this, elsewhere, but I think it is worth saying again here. I had fun Thursday night. I laughed a lot.

It is nice to be reminded of how wonderful it feels to smile.

"I imagine that yes is the only living thing."

Lately I have been devoting quite a bit of time to thinking about my outlook on life. I read recently that, despite what is commonly believed, the way we act actually affects how we feel, and not the other way around. If I desire to be happy, then, such an achievement becomes only a matter of acting happy. Strictly speaking, one could argue that, by this philosophy, joy is only a few forced smiles away. I think, however, that the concept is larger. To be happy requires a positive outlook on life, even regarding things that we may not necessarily view positively at this moment in time. But, through daily reaffirmation, I truly believe we can effect change on our moods - on our internal selves - and become brighter, more beautiful spirits.

The other day I started compiling a list of "rules" - aphorisms, maxims, tenets, call them what you will - by which I would like to start living. Some are more serious than others, but all, I feel, hold some amount of importance. Some of them I do not yet believe, of course, but someday, they will all be truths by which I will continue to endure. My hope is that others will find truth in them as well, and start living beautiful lives.

01. I deserve love and I will find it.
02. People are beautiful.
03. The world is absolutely amazing.
04. Something wonderful happens every day.
05. I am not the only one with vices.
06. My body is beautiful as it is and its only imperfection is that I do not see this.
07. Crying does not make me weak.
08. Telling people I miss them does not make me weak.
09. If I feel like laughing, I should. My sense of humor is marvelous whether or not anyone else shares it.
10. "One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes." (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince)
11. Every day is an opportunity to better myself.
12. Everybody deserves a smile.
13. Few people are actually bad. Most just have bad days.
14. Food was made to be eaten.
15. No self-doubt.
16. No inhibitions.
17. There is no room in my heart for regret.
18. Time does not stop, and all bad things eventually pass.
19. Pleasure and sin are not the same thing.
20. "We turn older not with years, but newer every day." (Emily Dickinson)
21. There is no reason to apologize for who I am.
22. Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.
23. I have been happy before and I will be happy again.
24. Every day is the right day to tell people I love them.
25. "I exist as I am, that is enough." (Walt Whitman)

Henry David Thoreau wrote a magnificent truth during the time he spent at Walden Pond. "How vain it is," he remarked, "to sit down and write when you have not stood up to live."

I have officially risen out of my chair, and today is the day I start to live.
 (Title quote: e.e. cummings)

Kenda

I just received an e-mail from the EcoTarium informing me that Kenda, our 27-year-old polar bear, was euthanized this afternoon after her weekly check-up with the veterinarians at Tufts Medical School: they discovered she had kidney disease.

Even as a part-time employee who has only been working at the museum for two years, I feel extremely sad right now. I was at the museum last night. I saw her. She looked beautiful as always. It is bizarre to think that, twenty-four hours later, she has moved on to a better place. 

I have to work both days this weekend and I know the sense of grief is only going to heighten.

empty sound

I feel a little hollow inside right now.

progression

A green formica counter
flush with the fingerprints
of hundreds of moments
stands guard
as the divide
between have and have not.

I have old emotions
rattling my brain and
pulsing through my bloodstream
and you have not a clue.

You brush your fingers through your hair
but instead of recommitting
your strands to memory
I notice your fingernails
are longer than mine.

Later we face the aquamarine fresco
of the pool.
We already know the water
is freezing
but I jump anyway
and with a smile
you plunge after me into its icy depths,
displacement of liquid
in action.

1:31 AM - 6/9/11

gpoy

The picture is gratuitous enough, as previously implied, but it does capture the way I feel right now far better than my words could.  I am also on my new bed and I lurveeee it.

Two days ago I cracked open my current poetry notebook and started writing. Despite my love of verse and my desire to produce poetry for a living, I have been unable to write anything of a satisfactory caliber in quite a long time. So, Tuesday night, I put an end to my dry spell and forced myself to journal, instead, just so I would have something on the page. The last time I kept a journal has to have been at least seven or eight years ago. Surely not since middle school, anyway. Over the last five or so years, poetry has been my way of documenting my life - events, people, feelings - and so it felt weird, at first, to journal again, to just write and write without any real thought to form or structure. It also felt extraordinarily therapeutic - to say something, to finally be writing again. Though not in verse form, at least my thoughts have once more found their way to a page. My hope in trying this was that, sooner or later, all this writing would somehow inspire me to write poetry again.

It must have worked because Tuesday night, or, more precisely, extremely early yesterday morning, I wrote my first poem in over three months, and I actually like it.

la belle vie

I love these girls immensely. 

They are beautiful people and they make everyone around them beautiful. 

I haven't been writing much lately.

My lack of words are not from a lack of anything to say. I have much to say. I lately have no way of saying any of it. My verbosity exists within my mind, thoughts swirling around, one large chaotic cyclone of chatter that becomes completely incoherent as soon as the words that comprise it are forced into any manner of shareable, structured form.

I do know how to say a few of the things on my mind.
I do know who I am.
I do know that I love my family and my friends.
I do know that the world is beautiful.

I also know how incredibly lonely I am.

Look At Me Now

Sometimes, when I see the three of you together, I chastise myself for wishing to comprise one-third of your trio, and even more so for letting my place in your lives somehow slip through my fingers and yours, as well.

I have done nothing if not try to find my way back.
I am starting to think that you prefer me when I am lost.

Passenger Seat

I roll the window down
and then begin to breathe in
the darkest country road
and the strong scent of evergreen
from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

Then looking upwards
I strain my eyes and try
to tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites
from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

"Do they collide?"
I ask and you smile.
With my feet on the dash,
the world doesn't matter.

When you feel embarrassed, then I'll be your pride.
When you need directions, then I'll be the guide.
For all time,
for all time.

-Death Cab for Cutie
Their lyrics have always been poetry to me.

Constant

You are literally the only thing on my mind, morning, noon, and night.

Initiation

I had fun last night. :)

120 Gold Star Boulevard

Yesterday I had lunch with Alex, Leanne, Chris, Laura, Katie, and Tyler. We went to the Panera Bread in Worcester and just sat and talked for hours. It was so nice to all be back together again and to reaffirm that regardless of how much has changed, nothing has changed.

That is the best sort of constancy there is.

Boxes

I am le terrified to start unpacking. I definitely overpacked this year, although a lot of freshmen do so I am using that as my excuse to not feel too guilty about my own decision to bring way too much with me to school last September.

Too many bags and boxes!

I am finally about to start writing this paper.

Rachael and Olivia both left within the past hour, and I think the reality that the year really is coming to a close has finally hit me full force. I spent the morning helping Marilyn, Olivia's mum, bring the last elevator-load of Olivia's things down to their car. It was a nice excuse to procrastinate and in any case I was happy to help. I love Mamma Cucco!

I went down to lunch hoping to make myself a sandwich, but I forgot that it was Sunday and when I got to the dining hall it was all breakfast/brunch food, so I ended up taking a sleeve of rice cakes back to my room. I think I will eat them with peanut buttah, yum yum. While I was downstairs, I stopped in the kitchen to give the Ham-MacGregor dining staff a "thank-you" note. As boring as work in the dining halls might be, I absolutely loved getting to know the staff. At the beginning of the semester I made it my goal to learn all of their names (thirteen in all!), because I am a firm believer in appreciating everyone, especially those people who sometimes are forgotten or "melt into the background." The chefs in my dorm are so funny and cheerful and sweet! I honestly think I will miss them a bit next year. :)

Speaking of appreciation, today is Mother's Day and obviously I would like to make a shout-out to my own lovely mum! 

I love you so much!

Oh My Stars

'Cause I know a lot about closing doors,
but not a lot about what opens up yours.
Andrew Belle

Louis

I sat my last two exams today, French in the morning and Scottish Lit this afternoon. I have spent the evening packing up the things in my desk drawers and on my bookcase shelves, and all I have left to do for work is write a six-page paper for which I have already done all of the research. Why, then, when I am so close to finishing everything, when home is literally less than forty-eight hours away, can I not motivate myself to just start typing?

Rachael and Olivia both leave tomorrow. It will be weird saying goodbye, and even weirder being here when they are not.

More Pangy!

Here is a video my friend Stodd found from Pangy Day. It is a compilation of footage taken throughout the afternoon, and the first forty seconds or so are composed mostly of Project: Theatre playing around on Skinner Green. It is worth watching, too, though, for the clips from the maypole, and also to see our newly-inaugurated president, Lynn Pasquerella, throw the first pitch of the wiffle ball game and then give the most adorable "Happy Pangy Day" greeting right at the end. =)

I love my school!

My brain is slush.

After nine hours of meticulous reading and note-taking, all I want to do is scream. And sleep.

Bare

Yesterday night I came home to find most of my roommates' posters and pictures stripped from the walls of our room. It saddened me in a way I was not expecting. I decided I would leave up my own wall hangings until later in the week, but somewhere around eleven o'clock I caved in and began pulling everything down: the pictures from the left door of my wardrobe; my huge collage of photos from home; the "star" labeled "MISS MOON" that hung on the door that was a set piece for "Play Dead" (I played Miss Moon, and had someone not run after me the closing night of the show, I would have forgotten to take it!); the framed drawing of giraffes that I created when I was really little, maybe three or four, with a note on the back from my grandmother saying, "some people know what they like from a really young age"; the newspaper clipping of Kenda, the EcoTarium's polar bear, that Mum included in a care package once; the drawings of flowers that Olivia made me for my "Shape of Things" congratulatory bouquet; and even my name tag and the photos I posted on the bulletin board on the front of our door. (My huge whiteboard calendar would have come down, as well, had it not decided to fall off of its mounting and crash to the floor at approximately four o'clock in the morning about a week ago. All four of us woke up terrified that someone was breaking into our room; when I noticed the faint, square outline of white lying near my bed, I mumbled something along the lines of "Just my whiteboard" before we all went back to bed, our heartbeats slightly quickened. The next morning I thought to myself, I suppose this is a sign that it is time to start packing, but only now have I actually started.)

The only thing I have left standing is my beautiful print of Vincent Van Gogh's "Starry Night," which is poster-puttied (I may have made up that verb, "may" meaning "probably") to the back of Briana's wardrobe, and faces the head of my bed. I would have taken it down, but I have nowhere to place it where it would not stand the chance of creasing or wrinkling, and I love it far too much to risk that. So up it stays until the day I leave here, which is probably this Sunday.

The walls are so barren now and it is oddly melancholy. All of the white space surrounding us reminds me of how it feels when you first move in to a new house, and you have not yet had the time to hang anything up. My family has moved a fair amount, and the feeling of falling asleep to emptiness is one I still remember. Last night, I experienced it once more. I did not sleep particularly well last night, and I wonder if the walls - if this entire process of destructing what we ourselves created and built - had anything to do with it.

I find it funny to think that in a few months' time, four new first-year women will be moving in to this room, Ham 311, fitting their comforters onto the twin beds, filling the dresser drawers with clothes and belts and scarves, hanging pretty frocks or sweaters or jackets on the wardrobe rack and placing their shoes on its wooden floor, and taping or nailing or puttying or hanging their own photographs and posters and collages onto these white walls. It is hard to believe that nine months ago, Briana, Bridgette, Rachael, and I were the "new firsties," that other girls have lived here before. However plain this room might be - however unfortunate it is with its cold, grey linoleum flooring and the ugly cement pillars that interrupt the span of windows every fifteen feet and the north-facing windows themselves - however dull we sometimes found this room, it was still ours. This was a place where I went through so many of my highs and lows during my first year at Mount Holyoke. Next year, I will be living in a more beautiful building, creating another nine months of memories with a new roommate and perhaps, even, creating a new perspective. 

It is comforting to know, however, that these walls that surround us now, right at this moment, have lived before us, and even more so to realize that they will live again. 

Checklist

Today I am:
-attending my last day of classes! (Theatre, French, history, then DONE.)
-meeting Olivia for lunch in Blanchard.
-editing the script for The Importance of Being Earnest, sending the updated copy to Leanne, and continuing to plan for our meeting with UPSTAGE. (Fingers crossed!)
-watching "Trainspotting" with my Scottish Lit class while we devour delicious Hawaiian pizza.
-actually reading Louis XIV's Memoires pour le Dauphin so I can finally get started on this history paper.
-catching "Glee" at 8 pm? Maybe? I never watch television anymore.

Things standing between me and going home:
-two more classes (let's gooooo French and history).
-one history paper [yet again] on Louis XIV, at least six pages in length.
-three final exams, two of which I can self-schedule and self-proctor.
-taking down everything from the walls in my room and finding somewhere to store them where they won't wrinkle, crease, or otherwise self-destruct.
-packing up all of the things I brought with me here.....which is a lot.

I can do this!

Hogwarts

Finishing my night by re-reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone for the bajillionth time, all for an actual academic class? I love college.

Pangy Day!

With Stodd, a good friend and chair of Project: Theatre.

The cutest little hula-hooper ever.

Jojo and Libby.

Today was Pangy Day and it was the most fun I have had since I came to school in September. Everyone dressed in shorts and skirts and pretty frocks. Everyone glowed. Everyone spent the afternoon smiling and laughing and blowing bubbles and telling stories and hula-hooping and making ribbon wreaths and running around a gigantic maypole and loving each other. (To see more pictures that I took this afternoon, click here.)

Today I fell in love with my school for all of the beauty within it, for the amazing women who surround each other with love and joy and support. I am so very, very tired, and unfortunately rather sunburned on my shoulders, but I am, more than anything else, so content with who I am and where I am at this moment in time.

Aujourd'hui, c'est magnifique.

Today it is absolutely gorgeous out! Both yesterday and today started out rather dreary-- slightly muggy, but cold and damp more than anything else. The sun has fought through, though, and the weather is purely glorious. Walking across campus numerous times in one day has become a treat and not a begrudging reality. The air smells wonderful, the birds are singing in full force, the trees' branches finally have sprouted green buds, flowers are bursting, clouds are moving against a pristine blue backdrop, and my mood is fantastically elevated.

My personal life, as of late, has been relatively tough, but tremendous things have been happening here at school.

01. Olivia and I were able to get a double in one of our Top 5 dorms, Abbey Hall, which was built in 1937 and is so so beautiful!

It's hard to see in this picture, but it's quite pretty and the common spaces are beautiful, far cries from the dorm I live in now. Abbey is close to the theatre as well as the music building, making it convenient for both of us! It is also much closer to the center of campus and the main greens, which I am so happy about! Having lived relatively "off" campus this year, I am ready for the change.

02. I got the job I applied for! Starting next fall, I will be working as a Peer Mentor for the Speaking, Arguing, and Writing (SAW) Program here at Mount Holyoke College. As mentors, we work with fellow MHC students to help them develop their writing and speaking, regardless of where they might be in the creation process. As someone looking to possibly make a career in the publishing industry, this is the perfect job for me! Not to mention two other great things about it: a) I get to work with all different sorts of people, all of the time and b) my friend Lizzie is also going to be a SAW mentor with me!

03. I have been voted Secretary of Project: Theatre for the upcoming 2011-2012 academic year! P:T is the student theatre organization here on campus, and of the four shows I performed in this year, three of them were run through P:T. I can honestly say that I found my family in this organization-- the girls who devote their time to this group are absolutely amazing individuals, ones who I adore and trust and love deeply. I cannot wait to start giving back not only to Project: Theatre but also to the larger Mount Holyoke community as well!

04. I have been selected to be an Orientation Leader this coming fall! I am so excited!! Move-in day for me will now be Wednesday, August 24, some time in the late afternoon. Orientation training lasts for about ten days and then the real fun begins when all of the newly-admitted international students arrive (and when the rest of the Class of 2015 joins them a few days later). I did not have a particularly great experience in my own orientation group this year, and one of my largest goals is to help my own group of students have a warm, happy, positive first experience here on campus-- the one I never really had. It has taken me six months to realize how much there is to love about this school, and if I can, I want to show these girls how wonderful their four years here can be-- right off the bat.
 
05. I have been selected to receive some sort of French award at the French Department's end-of-year ceremony this coming Tuesday. I was really surprised when I received the invitation in my mailbox, but I will say that it is nice to know that all of my hard butt-busting work this year has apparently paid off.

06. I finished my last day of lighting prep crew this afternoon, which means I have officially completed the second of seven non-course requirements needed for my theatre major. It is a little victory, but one that makes me happy regardless.

07. Tomorrow night I am going to Smith to see Janelle Monáe perform live! Olivia, Noreen, and my friend Catia (who was the dinosaur in The Skin of Our Teeth, see second and third photos) are all coming, too. Janelle is an amazing performer and I am ecstatic to be able to say that she will be my third concert ever. I will try to take some pictures if I can.

08. This really cool annual event known as Pangy Day is this Friday afternoon! It is described as a combination of an end-of-year celebration mixed with a glorification of Earth Day. There is a campus-wide picnic on the green with entertainment in our amphitheater and then an entire afternoon of earth-friendly fun, including a maypole! I cannot wait! Hopefully I will take lots of pictures. For more information about Pangy Day, how it came to be, and pictures from last year's event, click here.

09. This weekend is going to be full of busy-ness but also a lot of happiness. On Friday I am going to see two different theatre performances, one from Project: Theatre called "Searching for Candi," and a student-written-and-produced piece called "Lost Time, Found Space" performed in collaboration with the Theatre department. Yum yum yum arts. On Saturday I have two meetings: my first ever Project: Theatre board meeting (!) and the Verbosity Literary Magazine release party. I also think I am going to try to go to Amherst Library for a few hours to see if I can't get a head start on my impending essay of doom (also known as "yet another examination of Louis XIV's power-hungry craze"). Saturday night I am going to UMass to see Leanne and also Jessie and Curtis, Hoang, Sasha, and others. I have not really seen anyone there in a long time, so I am looking forward to having one last "hurrah" before finals roll around and everyone becomes crazycrazycrazy. Then on Sunday, Mount Holyoke is hosting this really cool event called "Holi," which I think is sort of like intense, all-out body painting. I finish my weekend with my very first orientation leader meeting, as well as an evening curled up with Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, which, as a treat, we are discussing during our final Scottish Lit class on Monday. Delish as a fish.

10. Only four more days of classes, and only eleven more days until I can say I have finished my freshman year of college and I can come home!!! I am seriously so ancy. I love my friends here, of course, but I am really looking forward to spending three solid months at home, with my family and my high school friends. All that stands in my way, besides four days of classes, are three final exams and one six-page essay (and the Theatre department's end-of-year picnic, though I'm not complaining about yummy food and good company!).

Earlier this afternoon, Noreen and I came out of French class, spent a good ten minutes picking dandelions, and then had lunch together, during which time I built myself a dandelion crown. We exalted in the sun's beautiful rays, and though these pictures from my camera aren't great quality, I think the joy in the air is still visible.

It is still so lovely and sunny out! I think I will change into shorts, pull on my sneakers and go for a quiet walk around the lake. Maybe I will bring my camera.

The song of the day, half in honor of tomorrow night's concert and half because I love it and cannot get it out of my head, is "Oh, Maker" by Janelle Monáe.

Oh, Maker, tell me did you know
this love would burn so yellow,
becoming orange and in its time,
explode from grey to black to bloody wine?

Oh, Maker, have you ever loved,
or known just what it was?
I can't imagine the bitter end
of all the beauty that we're living in.


Have a glorious Wednesday afternoon!

s(He) killed it with kisses, and from it s(He) fled.

In Florence's version, the female is so strong.
Why, then, in this reality, am I the one who ends up so weak?

Leave all your love and your loving behind--
you can't carry it with you if you want to survive.

I'm going home tonight!

Thank goodness, too.

Shout-out to my roommate Briana:

Thank you for what you said to me last night.
You made me feel so much better.
I needed that.

Three Weeks

Is everyone afraid of time and space these days?

Unfinished

Tell me this banality staring me in the face
is not your way
of letting me know
you no longer feel.
Five words --
it's
not
you
it's
me
-- grotesquely overused in
adolescent
melodramas
and shamelessly mocked
by maturity's
cynical, biting malignity.
With twenty-six letters
from which to tear the arteries
straight from my heart
you choose merely nine.
Am I not worth more than that?
Are the remaining seventeen
too difficult to manipulate
or have you tired of
manipulation
altogether?

I cannot say what exists between us
now
nor am I certain
that what bound us before
was ever a form of existence.

2:37 PM -- 4.19.2011

Bristol

How am I supposed to know what to say to you if you will not even tell me where we stand?

The Skin of Our Teeth

Today was the final performance of The Skin of Our Teeth. Despite the show being a matinee, our audience was by far the best one of the week, and they seemed to absolutely love what we gave them. We have been working on this show for over two months now, and I have devoted a lot of my time and energy toward the hours and hours and hours of rehearsals we have had. The shows came off beautifully and this past week especially, I began to bond with the cast, strengthening my ties with the fellow ensemble members and developing new ones with the upperclassmen principles. I look forward to working with many of them next year!

Just in case you're interested in a visual of all of this schtuff I'm saying, here are some shots from the show.

ACT I

Jane Bradley as Sabina the maid.

 The telegraph boy (Taylor Rankins) with the dinosaur (Catia Cunha) and wooly mammoth (Claudia Kim).

Mrs. Antrobus (Clara Kann) with her children Henry (Nicole Guild) and Gladys (Tess Guilfoile) and the pets.

 The final moments of Act I: the Antrobus household filled with prehistoric mammals and a rag-tag bunch of refugees all huddled around a fire. An iceberg looms outside and Sabina cries for the audience's help to "save the human race!" (I'm second from the right in the front row.)

ACT II

 Atlantic City, NJ -- as imagined in cardboard. Opening montage complete with conventioneers and Esmerelda, the gypsy (played by the hilarious Lesley Brown).  I'm the goon in the wheelchair.

 Conventioneers taunting Mr. Antrobus (seated, Bryna Turner) for bringing "the whole family along." Do you see me in the Turkish Bath?

 The final moment of the act, as the world-ending deluge fast approaches. 

ACT III

 Roger Babb, our director, decided to use puppets for the final act. The results were amazing.

The entire cast and crew posing with the Antrobus household (also made entirely out of cardboard). I'm in my costume as Mr. Fitzpatrick, the stage manager. Roger Babb is the the very back, center.

Normally a small part of me is bittersweet when a show comes to a close, but I am nothing but ecstatic now that Skin of Our Teeth is finally over. I think I am just really ready to have free time again. I have not had my weeknights free since I was cast in my first show at Mount Holyoke in mid-September, and I am truly excited to rediscover what it is like to have hours to spare. My experience with Roger and the cast and amazing crew members was absolutely fantastic, and I am so grateful to have been able to perform in my first department production before the end of my freshman year here. But I am leaving this show behind with peaceful contentment and an eager eye toward the weeks to come and the summer that is less than twenty days away!

The Hickie

I mouth
sorry in the mirror when I see
the mark I have made just now
loving you.
Easy to say it's alright
adultery
like blasphemy is for believers but
even in our
situation simple etiquette says
love should leave us both unmarked.
You are on loan to me like a library book
and we both know it.
Fine if you love both of us
but neither of us must too much show it.

In my misted mirror
you trace two toothprints
on the skin of your shoulder and sure
you're almost quick enough
to smile out bright and clear for me
as if it was okay.

Friends again, together in this bathroom
we finish washing love away.

-Liz Lochhead

birdland

At ten fifty-seven yesterday morning, as I approached the building where I have my French class every day, I caught sight of a robin in the middle of his morning scavenge. He was beautiful, large and round with wonderfully red-orange plumage on his robust stomach. He hopped lightly around an area of mossy ground surrounding a tree with low-hanging branches. As I grew nearer, I watched him plunge his beak into the cushy green and pluck from the earth a thin, grey worm, its translucence shimmering in the growing daylight. I stayed on the pavement as I passed by, careful so as not to disturb him with any seemingly-treacherous movements. Even still, he sensed my presence and dropped this treasure discreetly, retreating quickly away as if in fear that I might discover his breakfast and steal it for my own. I continued walking and a few paces later turned around.

He had returned to the spot where his repast lay untouched. He dipped his head down, clicked his beak, and scurried away with the worm securely in his bill.

Catharsis

There is always a reason with you. There is always a reason why this, whatever "this" is between us, cannot happen, a reason why it should not exist.

Perhaps each commencement between us begins with a predetermined end. 

Time stopped rooting for us almost at the start, and you, quick to grab hold of some reason, any reason, accepted its obstruction as inevitable. Did you welcome it with relief? Your eyes always focused on me, always bore deep within my own self, piercing my naive frame. Were they merely searching for a means of escape? When the first chilled wind blew through the greened leaves outside of your second story window, rocking their fragile stalks and forcing their gentle arms up toward a blue heaven, a foreshadowed fiery sacrifice of weeks to come, you ripped away your own stem, drew yourself as far from our shared roots as you could possibly get.

The chilled winds come every year. But the greened leaves trembled and you, forgetting how they quiver each year, ripped yourself away from these roots.

You reasoned with me, pronouncing continuity as hopeless. Time, you said, was not on our side. Secretly you listed space as another enemy. You never told me, but I knew.

Time is inescapable and evades control. I stood watching as you walked away, left me behind and found, upon your arrival Elsewhere, a third reason.

The Reason was beautiful and incomparable in every way. It was close and warm and sweet and possessed an intensity both in composition and character with which I could not compete. And I, believing always that passion, instinct, the blood pulse beating within me was stronger than logic, accepted this Reason with an unwavering faith in divinity. The Reason was there and exactly what you wanted. The Reason was exactly what you needed to run away from me.

Days and months have piled together, collecting dust. A second year of reasoned distance draws closer every day and still you fling excuses upon me as if rationalization is all we need to fix these mutilated roots. Still you blame time for the distance that you view as unavoidable.

Every reason you could possibly supply you have carelessly thrown at me. Still clinging onto this small, devout belief in the worth of these emotions circulating through my veins and pouring out of me, I have accepted every reason without any outward protest.

Last night every fiber of my being ached to scream at you, to scold you for two years of excuses and two years of avoiding explanation and potentiality. 

You have never even tried to challenge time, and I am stuck in the perpetual static of impossibility.