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.

Gums

A still from Act I of The Skin of Our Teeth.

The invited dress rehearsal for The Skin of Our Teeth is tonight! I am finally starting to feel excited about the show. I spent almost fifty hours in rehearsals over the last seven days, so to see everything come together and to have an audience to experience that cohesion is going to be wonderful! Leanne, Rachael, and Caitlin are all coming tonight, and I know that I am extremely lucky to have such supportive friends.

Muse

"Picasso once remarked, 'I do not care who it is that has or does influence me as long as it is not myself.'"
-Gertrude Stein

la petite academie et moi

At the end of my interview today, my professor/Colbert "offered me a job" to work as one of his advisors on la petite academie among the ranks of Jean Chapelain and others!!

An imaginary job has never meant more to me.

P.S. One quick thing I remember from my midterm interview. Professor "Colbert" McGinness brought up an image of Rigaud's famous portrait of Louis XIV to, as he so put it, "set the tone" for our meeting. I laughed and politely pointed out to Colbert what a beautiful portrait it was, but how curious for it to appear given that Rigaud finished it in 1701 and our interview was taking place in 1675. For a moment he looked a little surprised. I doubt he was expecting me to know that, much less call him out on the anachronism. I quickly added, "I hear Rigaud is currently training with Lebrun. He seems to have talent. We should definitely recruit him to paint this in a a decade or two." A few seconds of silence. Then Colbert smiled at me and quipped, "Yes...he is probably still crawling these days, isn't he?"

Ludovico Magno

It is 12:11 AM and I am comfortably sunken into an extremely cushy chair in the library. The air is so warm here and it makes me sleepy, I think, but I love the quiet atmosphere. The only sounds that arise are ones I find oddly calming: the light clatter of keyboards, the humming of the wooden ceiling fans and the occasional murmur of the printer. The girl in the chair directly across from me has fallen asleep, her body bent at the waist and her feet splayed on the ottoman we currently share; she breathes so lightly and I wish I could achieve that same level of tranquility. Instead, I frantically read book upon book about propaganda during the reign of Louis XIV, scrambling notes onto more leafs of notebook paper than any one person should have to use and subsequently attempting to tackle the daunting task of condensing days' worths of notes onto a few minuscule index cards.

My midterm "job interview" with my history professor (read: "Jean-Baptiste Colbert, royal advisor to Louis") is tomorrow at noon and I am terrified and no matter how many more hours I devote to studying, I already know I will still wake up tomorrow morning thinking that even breaking out in hives would be better than showing up at his office.

I am tired and I want to go to sleep.

I want Van Gogh plastering my walls next year.

Things

I went to bed at ten o'clock last night and slept for almost ten hours. I am not sure that has ever happened on a weekday before here at Mount Holyoke. Success! Although nothing particularly huge happened today, I did manage to finally wash about three weeks' worth of laundry. Now all my clothes are clean and I will actually have garments to wear when I go out in public (finding things to wear today was harder than it should have been). I go home Saturday morning and I know my parents would absolutely kill me if I were to bring my dirty clothes home with me. I always avoid bringing laundry home if I can. (Not to mention it hogs so much space in my weekend bag.)

Even though nothing very exciting has occurred today, I am in good spirits. Noreen is letting me borrow her bike for my Skin rehearsal tonight and I could not be more thankful. Walking across campus every weeknight, both to Rooke Theatre and back to Ham Hall, has become a huge pain. Despite how safe the college is at night, walking by myself in the dark sometimes gives me the heebie jeebies, so being able to cycle to and from rehearsal will be so lovely! I am planning to bring my bike back with me to school when I return on Sunday. Then, once it gets sunny out (did you hear me, Mother Nature?), I can ride it to my classes and just bask in the general wonderfulness that is Spring!

Happy last day of March, everyone!

Easy Lovin'

 The picture above is a shot from Puerto Vallarta. When we ate our sunset dinner, we sat right on the beach and we were told to take our shoes off. The sand felt so cool against my tired soles, and I squished my toes between the grains with the same level of enthusiasm as a toddler playing in the mud. Rachael thought our bare feet were the funniest things and so she insisted on taking a picture of my feet. I just like the way this came out, although it makes me laugh a bit because of how strange my toes look. I think feet in general are just weird though.

Today was a lovely day, all things considered. I actually slept last night, for about seven hours, and thank goodness too, because otherwise I would be a walking zombie right about now. The weather was wonderful today! Cold but not chilling and the irises planted outside of Talcott Greenhouse are finally budding, all purple and yellow and full of charm! I braved my French exam and I think it went relatively well. The English prospective majors/minors tea was today and after having Professor Quillian (the chair) sign my declaration form, I turned in my statement and here I am, a declared student! I feel so much excitement about such a little thing. Later this afternoon I went to my history class and received my graded first paper, on which I worked incredibly long and hard and on which I earned an A+! Needless to say I emerged from class extraordinarily giddy. It is reassuring to know that all of my hard, butt-busting work does pay off sometimes. 

Rachael and Olivia were both away for dinner, so I ate dinner by myself. This was fine - I just read The Quarry Wood for my Scottish Lit class - but after a while this really nice junior from my floor asked to join me and we had a really nice conversation. She is so sweet! She always says "hi" to me when we run into each other in the hallway or bathroom. Tonight she asked if I was from Paris. I nearly fell out of my chair in laughter. When I explained that, no, I live about ninety minutes east of South Hadley, but that I do study French, she realized her confusion and everything made sense again. It was funny, though, and I was flattered regardless of how ridiculous an idea it was. (Me? Giving off Parisian vibes? I wish!) Rehearsal tonight was pretty good. I have been starting to talk more with the upperclassmen and I really like that. OH! Around nine o'clock we were rehearsing Act I and Bryna started freaking out and pointed to this gray blob moving around on the floor. Turns out it was a domesticated centipede, or at least that's what Bryna called it. We just stared at it in horror for a minute and finally I asked, "Should I step on it?" I did and then shrieked when I realized the dead bug, with all of its little arms and legs or legs and arms or just legs, was stuck to the bottom of my left sneaker.

So that was funny.

But yes, even though I have yet to begin writing my English paper (the draft of which is due tomorrow at 8:35 AM), I am in relatively good spirits. All I need now is a bit more persistent sunshine and I think I can fully recover from the funk I have been stuck in lately.

I have just sold my soul to Mount Holyoke College.

And by that I mean I just returned from the registrar's office. I am now an officially-declared double major in English and theatre. I know we do not have to decide our concentrations until the second semester of sophomore year, but I have known that I want to spend my life writing, reading, and performing for over eight years, and I decided that now - today, when the sun is shining and the flowers are budding - is as good a day as any to make it official.

It feels good knowing something with such certainty.

My "aha!" moment of the day.

I just researched the side effects of Adderall, only to discover that in rare instances, continuous chewing and/or teeth clenching may occur. That is basically the description of the weird problem I was having with my jaw last night! My teeth felt so pressured and I could not focus on anything else but the sensation persisting in my mouth. I have never had this problem before, which concerns me slightly. But at least now I know why even now, hours after I "woke up" (read: saw that the time was 7 AM and decided that I could finally stop trying to fall asleep), I am still clenching my teeth subconsciously.

I need to stop but I do not know how! The medicine has to run its course, which takes hours and hours. Booooo.

Also, I had a cup of coffee this morning. Gross, gross, gross. Caffeine has no effect on me anyway, but I downed a cup on the off chance that it might miraculously wake me up. No such luck. I do, however, have a stomachache now. I am officially never drinking another cup of coffee in my life.

Scratch that.

It is 7:00 AM and I officially did not sleep a wink last night. I can feel my head and my body turning sluggish now but try as I might I could not coax myself to sleep at all, even after I finished writing that last post. The alarm clock on my cell phone is set to go off in thirty minutes, but I just turned it off since there is clearly no way that I will fall asleep between now and then. Watching the sun ascend was sort of cool, I suppose, since our dorm room has an entire wall of huge windows. Still, though, I would have much preferred to sleep for five hours and catch the sunrise another day.

Caffeine has no affect on me (thanks, ADHD) and I therefore have absolutely no idea how I am going to function until five o'clock, which is when I will finally return to my dorm room. The only good news that comes from this whole mess is the fact that I will be exhausted by the time tonight rolls around, and (hopefully!) should have no problem falling asleep. I just hope I do not drift off before I have finished all of my work.

What do people do to stay awake without drinking coffee or tea or those terrible energy drinks? Hit themselves? Slap their faces with cold water any time they have access to a bathroom? I have absolutely no idea. Maybe I will just wear a t-shirt and a skirt without tights and freeze to stay awake...

Early Morning Narrative

I have not written in quite a long while, and so much has happened since my last post. Spring break was last week, and I went to Puerto Vallarta with Olivia, my best friend here at Mount Holyoke (and also my roommate for next year), her mum, Rachael, and Olivia's friend from Chicago, Kelly. Rachael and I flew out in the early hours of that first Sunday morning; our flight left Logan at 6:55 AM and so we were in the car and driving to Boston by 3. We had a lengthy layover in Dallas-Fort Worth, but we arrived in Mexico around seven o'clock in the evening. The weather was absolutely beautiful all week! It did not rain once and only on one day did I spot a single unhappy cloud (and it seemed to dissipate after only a few hours). The sun was so bright and it felt wonderful on my skin, so used to jeans, long-sleeved shirts and puffy winter coats have my legs and arms become. Of the five of us, I stood as the only person not only incapable of tanning (my body seems to much prefer burning), but also the only person who constantly required sunscreen (my vitiligo makes my skin drink up vitamin D in copious quantities). But the massive amount of sunscreen that I slathered onto my skin aside, the sun made me so incredibly happy. Living in New England, one becomes so used to the frequent snowfalls, frosts, rainstorms, and bone-chilling winds characteristic of the wintertime that the concept of sunshine is largely forgotten. How nice, then, to spend six days basking in such welcoming rays. My shoulders freckled slightly, my face freckled quite a bit (my own version of the tans that Olivia, Rachael, and Kelly all brought home), and my hair started to lighten up to its summertime red.

Puerto Vallarta was absolutely breathtaking and I wish I could share all of the five-hundred plus photographs that I took on my trip. Olivia's family owns a time share in the city and the condo they have is located on the 24th floor of the building, with only the penthouse sitting above it. The view was absolutely incredible and when we first arrived, Rachael and I both had a hard time believing that it was real. The ocean was so blue and so close - literally right outside our windows- and the mountain ranges for which Puerto Vallarta is known were also in plain sight, usually shrouded in a light mist that only heightened the surreality of everything.

The views from the balcony (with Rachael).

We went to the beach rather frequently and I was surprised at how warm the water is! We went swimming in the ocean for about twenty minutes one afternoon and the waves felt so pleasant, lapping against our backs and pushing us gently forward with each pulse. The water was warm on the surface but toward our feet it changed dramatically, and if we pushed our bodies down toward the ocean floor our ankles and calves were instantly swathed in a cold bath that felt immensely refreshing. On our last full day in Mexico, we went on a day cruise out into the ocean and went snorkeling off the coast of the city. I have never snorkeled before but I have always wanted to, so I am so ecstatic to have finally had the chance to do so. The fish were swimming in hoards beneath us, among us, next to us, through us. I am sure that I accidentally touched them multiple times, though I was cautious not to intentionally touch them. (I supposed I could have but I guess I felt that would have been harmful? I also just did not want to get in trouble with the cruise managers, although I doubt they would have noticed.)

 Snorkeling in the Puerto Vallartan bay.

The most amazing thing, though, was that moments after we all climbed back onto the boat, a huge humpback whale burst forth from the water just feet away from where we had been swimming. It was incredible!

 Our humpback whale sighting.

The whale jumped out of the ocean eight or nine times before finally leaving the bay, and a boat full of stunned and enchanted vacationers, behind. We also had the opportunity to hug a sea lion in the marina. The South American sea lion, named Flash, was so huge and wet and so friendly! Although I am typically wary of such tourist traps (they take your picture with Flash and then offer to sell you the photo), I saw no harm in hugging him, since I figured I might not have the chance to do so again. As soon as I walked up to him, Flash threw his fins around me and placed his head on my shoulder before giving me a huge kiss on the cheek. I remember wrapping my arm around him to complete the hug, and feeling how simultaneously wet and dry his skin was. His fur was so soft and he smelled like salt water and fish. His whiskers tickled and I walked away feeling so genuinely cheerful. (At the end of the day, I could not resist buying the photo. It was too cute to pass up!)

Getting a kiss from Flash the sea lion.

We spent the afternoon of our cruise hiking up the mountains of a small island off the coast of Puerto Vallarta called Yelapa. The buildings were all made of stone and cement and terra cotta, painted vibrant shades of yellow, orange, and red. We hiked far inland and eventually reached a gorgeous, crystal blue waterfall hidden among a large mass of high rock formations. The water was cool but I have never swam in the pool of a waterfall before, so I did not mind very much.

The rest of our time in Mexico was divided between lazing around the condo, traveling into the heart of the city for dinner each night (I did not eat a single thing that was not absolutely delicious) and passing an afternoon at the market, where there was such beautiful craftsmanship on display. I discovered two things that day: that I am rather terrible at bartering with the natives (Even though I know that it is the whole point, I feel bad when I disagree with their pricing!) and that I am capable of carrying relatively substantial conversations in Spanish. I studied Spanish for five years prior to college, but I had no idea that everything I had learned would come back to me so quickly!

 My first time trying fried plantains. They were delicious and did not taste anything like what I had expected.

 The marketplace, mid-afternoon.

 With Jesus, a vendor in the marketplace who decided to become my "Mexican boyfriend."

My last comment about Puerto Vallarta is about how stunning the sunsets are! The colors streaked through the clear skies were breathtaking and the sun always took its time setting beyond the blue-watered horizon. One evening we ate dinner on the beach in order to watch the sunset, and even though that evening a cloud cover prevented there from being any manner of terrific displays of color, the declining sun still looked wonderful.

 Two separate sunsets, both fantastically colored.

Kelly, myself, Olivia, and Rachael at our sunset dinner, before the sun began to go down.

Despite a terrible layover in Dallas that lasted three hours longer than originally planned due to a lengthy delay of our flight to Boston, Rachael and I both managed to keep high spirits on our final day of travel. After spending over twelve hours in Dallas-Ft. Worth International Airport, however, neither of us is particularly eager to visit the airport, or the city, any time soon. Which is silly, of course, since I am sure Dallas is a lovely place. Twelve hours in an airport, though, is enough to drive anyone crazy.

I am so incredibly grateful to Olivia and her mother for inviting me to share in such an enchanting trip! I felt so relaxed and at ease the entire time we were there, and the city was a welcomed departure from the hustle and bustle and vat of stress that is Mount Holyoke College. We have only been back at school for a week and already I feel stifled, overworked, overtired, and stressed out beyond comparison. I have been working on two different shows simultaneously for the past month, and this weekend the first of the two finally had its performances. The show, Play Dead, was written by a fellow first-year, Bailly Morse, and was twenty million times better written and more clever than I ever imagined it could be. The show was frothy fun but I had a great time getting to know a bunch of new Project: Theatre actresses and developing my very first southern accent for a show ever! (I was not so sure that it was very accurate, but a number of audience members came up to me after the shows to ask where in the South I came from, so I suppose I was more convincing than I thought.)

The cast and crew of "Play Dead." Writer and director Bailly Morse is the red-sweatered cutie pie in the front.

My family came up to see the play on Friday and even though I had only been back at school for five days, it was so nice to see them. I miss them a ton, all of the time. I also saw Leanne twice on Friday, first for a belated birthday dinner at Blanchard and then later in the evening for her Nineties/British birthday party at UMass, which was low key and fun. I have not been to UMass in over two months, so it was good to get over there again. (Leanne came to the show on Saturday and brought Jessie and Sasha with her. She is amazingly supportive and has come to every single one of my shows here at MHC. She is such a wonderful best friend!)

Now I just have one show to worry about. I am in the theatre department's Skin of Our Teeth, by Thornton Wilder, and I play both the stage manager, Mr. Fitzpatrick, and a variety of small ensemble parts. Though I have already performed in another Wilder play (I was Emily in Our Town sophomore year), Skin is so extremely different that the two do not seem as if they could possibly be accredited to the same playwright. The rehearsal process for department shows is obscenely rigorous. We have rehearsal five days a week (Monday to Friday) from 7 to 10 at night. Our show goes up April 14-17, and our tech week starts two weekends from now. Though I know tech rehearsals are vital for any show, I cannot help but feel bummed since I had been planning on coming home that weekend (April 8) to see Wachusett's production of Footloose. Alex and Leanne are both going to be home and I have yet to catch a single WRHS performance this year. (I have my fingers and toes crossed for Spring Blitz.) My director, Roger Babb, is growing on me, and by that I mean that he has gone from being a terrifying presence that I preferred to avoid to a slightly less intimidating oddball that I try not to attract negative attention from. For all of the uncertainty and caution that I feel, however, I will say that he is a brilliant man with fascinating ideas, and that watching him sculpt and mold the script into a visual spectacle has been and will continue to be amazing.

It is five o'clock in the morning and I am STILL not tired! I slept for ten hours last night because I was so exhausted from the show, and then this afternoon I accidentally fell asleep for two hours while reading The Quarry Wood for Scottish Literature. I do not know why I cannot fall asleep, although I do know that I cannot seem to find a comfortable way to hold my jaw, and my teeth are bothered whether they're clamped together or not. This is bizarre, I know, and I have never had this problem before. I do not know what is wrong with me but I would love for it to cure itself so that I can at least get two and a half hours of sleep in before I have to wake up and spend nine hours outside of my dorm room. Tomorrow (today, actually - how sad is that?) I have Scottish Lit, an hour to frantically try and get a head start on my English readings due Wednesday, French class, the prospective-majors theatre department tea, a lunch shift in the dining hall, rehearsal for a partner scene in my Acting I class, a one-hour costume fitting for Skin of Our Teeth, and hours of additional homework. I have a huge English paper due next Monday (it is technically due this Tuesday but my professor, being the goddess that she is, allowed me a week's extension) and a weird history midterm during which I must "interview with Colbert" for a spot in Louis XIV's court at Versailles. I would be much happier completing the take-home exam of essays that was originally going to be our midterm, but I guess I have no choice.

I also have to do all of my laundry from vacation, which has been sitting at the foot of my bed in a large white trash bag since I came back to school on Monday because I have yet to have had any time to devote to washing my clothes. Since I am running low on socks and have depleted my supply of jeans, however, I think it is about time to finally deal with it.

I have to do so much today and I am going to have only two hours of sleep to help me do it. Insomnia could not have picked a worse time to plague me.

Milk and Honey

Today I witnessed a girl get hit by a car. It feels completely surreal to me now, with so many hours separating me from that moment, but it was terrifying. I remember it relatively clearly: as I walked toward my first class of the day - Acting 105, all the way across campus in Rooke Theatre - I passed by Blanchard, the campus center. Around this time was when I thought to myself, "Today is going to be a beautiful day." No sooner had I finished deciding this than I heard a blood-draining thud and a muffled scream. Ahead of me, a girl in a light blue North Face was on her hands and her knees on the ground, and a regular-sized pick-up truck had lurched to a halt a few feet from the scene of the accident. Next thing I knew, the girl was up, bouncing around proclaiming she was "alright, alright" and hurrying toward the health center. The truck driver seemed completely shell-shocked. "I didn't even see you," he kept saying, as if he needed to hear the words more than she did.

My acting professor told me that her friend once accidentally hit someone with his car and was subsequently traumatized by the event. "He said he never felt the same after hearing the noise of a car hitting a fellow human."

It's enough to make my stomach flip a few times.

Disregarding the unsettling start to my morning, today was, indeed, lovely! I had a great time in my theatre class and I think my French quiz went all right. I didn't make a ton of headway on my history paper - in fact, I realized after class today that I did half of my research incorrectly - but I am somehow not freaking out about its impending due date. Both rehearsals, for The Skin of Our Teeth and Play Dead, went very well, although my voice will likely be shot in the morning from projecting so much while I'm still sick. Nevertheless, I am here, at my desk at twelve in the morning on this Wednesday in March, and I am in a surprisingly good mood. I have taken some Nyquil and I'm off to go try to pound out a rough draft of this research paper in the common room. Olivia said she'll join me since she has practically an entire book to read for an exam tomorrow.

Midterms are fun! Not really.

"We seemed to float into another land where sound drifted, light rippled and time glided."

So many rehearsals, every, every day!
I have so much to say but not nearly enough time to gather my thoughts and put them into words.
More later.

P.S. The Gowk Storm by Nancy Brysson Morrison is amazing! I have only read through to the third chapter of the second book (out of five), but I have already fallen in love. Scottish literature makes me really, really happy.

fate.

"I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be."

-Douglas Adams

Tricia

I just received an e-mail from the EcoTarium saying that, due to budgetary restrictions, my boss has been laid off. I feel like someone punched me hard against my ribs.

The Poet

Therefore he no more troubled the pool of silence.
But put on mask and cloak,
Strung a guitar
And moved among the folk.
Dancing they cried,
"Ah, how our sober islands
Are gay again, since this blind lyrical tramp
Invaded the Fair!"

Under the last dead lamp
When all the dancers and masks had gone inside
His cold stare
Returned to its true task, interrogation of silence.

-George Mackay Brown, twentieth-century Scottish poet

Happy St. Valentine's Day!

May your day be filled with love from all places and people.
P.S. The weather today is gorgeous!

V-Day

 A still from my monologue "Because He Liked to Look At It."

"The Vagina Monologues" goes up tomorrow night! I am so excited. The dress rehearsal was yesterday and they finally got the chaise so we didn't have to practice with chairs anymore and my monologue just flourished with the chaise; that sounds weird, but it is completely true because I was able to incorporate new movement and all around it just went really well. (I am aware of the length of that sentence.) And now the show is tomorrow night and I am really happy to be a part of it. Seeing all twenty-something of us onstage, wearing our black and our red and our pink, makes me proud. We look cohesive and united and strong.

Mount Holyoke's annual performance of "The Vagina Monologues" celebrates V-Day, a cause started by Eve Ensler (author and original performer of "VagMons") to commemorate and honor women who have survived and overcome rape, sexual abuse, physical and emotional violence, suppression, and gender insecurity. The actual V-Day is February 13th, but the celebration lasts all weekend. As part of MoHo's participation in V-Day's College Campaign, our school is just one of hundreds across the country that will be bringing this brilliant, controversial, barrier-breaking show to life. All of the proceeds will go to benefit women's shelters in the area. There might be a V-Day event (College Campaign or even a Community Campaign) going on near you! You can check the event map on the V-Day website, and if you are curious to discover more about the holiday, you can click here.

Hopefully I will have more pictures from the show after our run ends! I really am so excited and proud.

Set Them Free

"For my part, I know nothing with any certainty, but the stars make me dream."

-Vincent Van Gogh

Cue the stress.

My day is about to become chaos.