Ugh.

I've been crying a lot and not crying a lot.

I breathe pretty consistently.

Sometimes, I almost feel rational again.

I made an awful choice, and it sucks. I want it undone. I want Bubba, but there's no going back from breaking his trust so unexpectedly where it was fragile to begin with.

It's so much more physically painful than I expected.

I cried on the phone with my mom.

I cried when Kevin texted me.

I cried at the freakin' wind ensemble performance.

Where to go from here? It can't be friendship, because I want him too much. I'm hurt. He is hurt. Trying now to start a foundation would be too soon. And I can't see why my friendship would be worth trying to him. I didn't feel good enough in the relationship, no reason to feel so now.

It had been a while since I blogged (ugly word). The unfortunate reason is that I don't really have anyone to talk honestly about this except Kevin, who is Bubba's housemate. I told my mom everything, but couldn't tell her I was crying on the phone. Nobody in my life even knew we were dating, let alone that it's already over. If these feelings had been caused by anybody else, I would've gone to Bubba.

Deep down, I know we're not "long term relationship partners." Yeah, we have fundamental differences, but GODDAMN WE'RE CHILDREN. I couldn't stay in the beautiful moments with him, or I didn't try hard enough.

I spoiled a lot of happiness.

Text Drafts

Draft #1:
Marry somebody Jack is excited to see, Get good at Bridge- play with old people, Michael's to get Mom's circle stitching, Food sovereignty, lifetimes lived/experienced at different magnitudes, breaking into Temple finances, giraffe with cow spots, Invent a better pin, Mass produced raspberry farms?, Honors weekly email promoting banquet, becquerel, Jean onesies, realizing the condensation is on the wrong side of the window, Stanford Engineering Everywhere, So vandalous, There are certain things that movies make up that feel like they should belong more in real life than imagination, Gab, I am not good enough for you at all. When you go on an adventure, you don't really consider the scope or scale, There were a lot of people wanted to tell me about Jesus, Learning Matters, Philly Grad Coach, Ken Robbinson, rotary cell phone, people recommend good thoughts to have at certain experiences, this song cats dancing, Kira judging us, me pitying Gab to appease Kira, the white queen,

Draft #2:
I'd be much more beautiful without a mirror, My ears are full of dead air, Finally really start G**** family cook book since I am only third gen. female G****, Climbing on shit is biologically instinctive, Cut out the unimportant things, You know you're from GV if, ENH det, Become friends with Kat, Find quality beauty products, Men are in danger because Jack Kerouac is more valued than Jack London, I like the tone of xkcd as something completely different, Read Jack London, Living viv(id), Find the Insectarium, Take Latin and dance classes, People to visit: AJ, Steve, Stasi, Steve, Jack, Ceci, free fun shit in Philly, where do the sounds go?, overcumming, infinite hands of music to this moment, rage feminine visceral, senses of beauty, of mind/body, Death by exploding turkey, peacoat hoodie, Guy picking up trash off the road killer movie, What was Temple doing in the 60s? pop icon, "I've been thinking less of you," Making out for lost time, in a dry manor pun short story, bleach stencil, spider web as structural support against shrapnel.

Draft #3:
I am defined by my gender, by my sex, making my definition one of sex, Philly Rocky Horry, Look into Neuman Center, Tissues and lotion in every bedroom of middle America, symmetry is a sign of life, colored bubbles, Metal like ribbons slip in grease or oil or car blood to make me feel bad to feel worse there's no art no nothing to look at because some things block the view midnight mannequin,

Draft #4:
Etymology of understand, save text drafts, write Canada review, poster series, Sunday is me day, Write an honest evaluation of Creative Acts, I will be aware of my surroundings and take time to address them, I will let the nerves of my body be tingled and conscious, I will probe for the deeper understand of whole academic fields and individual human beings, I will find the exaltation of MAN MAN MAN and HOLY SPIRIT in art and music, I will select the few I need to love and make time for the ones who need me, it's hard being judged so don't do it, depth of life is more important than length, but some periods of life can be deeper than others, be alone, experience silence, being silly is not being honest, being kind is always honest nice is not, understand, be kind, do work, Make time to read, We are of the environment and not in it, I'm no even cool in the band, One of us will have to go to the other's funeral, All my mom wants is for me to think about her, I will never have a tattoo,

Draft #5:
Just me and Gab at the art museum, Name of sanskrit swastika, There's not enough excuses to bunker down together, Do we write love poems because of the idea of love poems or because something beautiful needs to be described in a way it deserves, each poem written to a girl independent of poetic awareness was the most beautiful one, There's still so far to grow, length and depth of your life, I have a secret talent that people trust me, I totally understand why I got the Home Ec Aware in middle school, novelty bongs, Toothcase from Quantum labs, Become friends with mike, Religious figure vs. Religious teacher, Collegiate theory class for music majors, homeless army people are the ones who couldn't blend with military morale because you lose everyone when you leave, Napolean conquers the west, Things always look dormy because why invest the time, Scrabble with Steve, see Stasi, Katie, Joe, Fava, Taylor :\, talk to Tom?, pack, shop, Matt's AJ, Mom, drumline packet,

Draft #6:
Pimp panda, Index finger history, hand history, Depth and interest are removed with difficulty, Will the universe crystallize? Singing in the style of improv, Honors kids don't go to parties at Welcome Week, Suburban white boys don't fuck black girls, Going to college should be like a job, Titties tassles show, The our father is exclusively a group prayer, Garnet Valley postcards, A vocation and vacation are very different, A lesson in Civics, Wrecklessness opposite of recklessness, You can't tell story about macroscopic societal forces except through the eyes of an individual, PSA against laughter while drinking, August 6Th Linvilla Orchards, In the role of toilet paper, Be engaged in my work, Djarn black clove cigarettes, Bit coins, Slam poetry in ASL, If the state is just Socrates is not, but if he is just, the state is not- He can't be corrupting youth because if current ideal Athens, difference is accepted, because look at what a great student I am,

Draft #7:
It's harder to talk to people now because there are so many things happening there's a lower chance of having something pop-culturally in common, Condom pixel mural, Universal bathroom hesitation, to autopsy a ballerina, The suburbs culture is only now starting to exist, nostalgia for past "homes," From scratch year of cooking, Religious ultimatum dictates general flow of society, The Republic censorship of god, Build a vaporizer, Cultural Darwinism, Literary fractal, "Loose lips sink scholarships," Son Shower, Profit of God, Sample Hall & Oates, American flags are in every single classroom in America, Grandma making harmonies, Be-attitudes, First generation to not attend church, slow degredation of church, Religions are a translation of the universe, the trinity was a prediction of religious form-repeat, People have to be trained right, "Parents aren't allowing their kids to get bored," Flabbergasted is the whitest word. First generation with cable television

Draft #8:
Funscape is a dream place, fish deposited at the edge of the ride, better safe than sorry for those who work in the gas industry nearby, missed personal connections for Dan G., Definknitly, Bender is the night, The Lyin' King, Dr. Doomlittle, the old man and the seaMonster, also know as a farwell to arms, Masterbait, writer's room service, garden of weedin', Concert benefit of the doubt, buy nice camera, bowls of fruit in front of crazy historical scenes, Bird graffiti, test pattern graffiti, get good with free hand, Thought blog, book storage, Super market art gallery, Scavenger hunt, Public art, I'm sorry for your moss, Kate Moss, I lichen it to... Daily Show, famous pen pal, alarmed clock, pillow pests (lice, flies, mosquitoes), rockin' horse, rocking and rolling horse, the WHOm, Sender's Game, mossman, symbol polish, broad street linemen, why T9?, laptophat, Lisa Frankenstein, trim the heard, whisker away, bed spread, dawn of the debt, ridiculously nonsensical visual puns: cabin net in cabinet, it's noon resting place was a kitty in,

Draft #9:
Athens cannot be just because if that is ideal justice they deserve to kill him except now not corrupt, if not, literary origami, do virtuous metaphors apply to socrates? Socratic plays style, What relation does the story have to reality, blind prophet from Oedipus, Greek exceptionalism, importance of music- it has an especially focused segment on corruption of youth, start out subtle- blaspheme the gods in a sneaky way before they're on guard, introduction of scientifically rigorous and proofed logic, poetic rhythm cultural symbolism? how was the work published and to whom? corrupted student and "lover?" relationship between ideal city and Athens, focus on the "one man, one job" thing in relation to outside criticism of Athenian democracy, it's ideal to not be a busy body like the Athens that murdered Socrates, "what is justice? justice was not killing Socrates," "it's right in front of your face the whole time," but that is the state, who is it individually being aimed at?, that is the content, but what is the style of ironic paradox saying?

Draft #10:
Art is to understand and capture (the human condition) in pure expression, so's science, timeless observer man, Need to know more Socratic background and Illiad, Who can save me from the lazy mellow? How are bagels made? Talk to a CAMs professor about the Republic being a farce, [sic]

Draft #11:
Nothing moves > light, Cambodia-America stickers, Hisptermination, WebSight, The air between a flock of birds, Origami Owl Towel, Write a horror movie, Guilloteen, Beach patrol scaring your friends with real patrol already there, I like the time when churches overflowed, Friendship awards night, Phone sext, Red Balloon viewing party, Beach beach party, Murder mystery party, Motorcycle license, Having blood on one's hands meant to have masturbated on your period, Big trucks as an actual visceral fear every day, Pro-government riot, Grape koolade and lemonade, Red dye beetle farms, Scuba underwater mapping system, giant red solo cup trash can, Al Qaida is not a Holy War, chip tune tiny beep turning into massive speakers, Flying carpet beach towel with tassels, Atoms moving through each other in "liquid ringed solid," Very few white girls have a perfect voice, the "hold me" was held, Mad Men, i get knocked down but I get up again, Ask dad for list of movie recommendations, To "become" an athlete. Become a musician. Become, not be. Edible soaps,

Draft #12:
Austin as Bassist, Star Wars Movie Night, Write Jill, Kevin, Katy, make stationary, Ben is tense, Famous architecture sand molds, What is chauvinism?, Are there salt analogues?, email NSA email guy, Text Josh H****, Text Mom, How did A. P*** get to be who he is? Ho wlong did Dan "think" after reading Zen? return his books, Charge the bike battery, clean room, hide stuffed animals, have keys and visa for ride, text Kat, dust blinds, store/hide photo books, get vibrator, talk to Dad about toilet seat, email R******* and G*********, post ISP/TOR in MDI, change sheets, wipe down bathroom heater, sponge kitchen things, do dishes?, move clutter, vacuum, intern for Penthouse,

Draft #13:
We haven't been to a party in a while because I haven't peed Like That In A While Lower classes Are More Gender Neutral, white Fancy Themselves ADAM In Naming All Things Named Unnamed "It's like opening the Lost Arc. All the Nazis melt."

Draft #14:
Dish soap, a genius unaware, secular Catholicism is Irish Catholicism, director of the Please Touch Museum, "high culture," obscure suburban legends, Kaczmarczik lectures, Franklin Institute astronomy night, pixeled condom art, theSpringGarden.org, Baked goods, Phillyurbancreators, Philly culture grant?, interactive mural map, indie move: friend helping through sex therapy, Daily Heller, mit course ware, craigslist yarn, Animal shoes, What are the Israeli reports for casualties of Hammas action, What is this charter in relationship to Hammas? Making mallets, Weaver's Way, Holy Trinity Bethlehem Church,

Draft #15:
Fluffy dandylions as firecrackers model human being, Slight green haze to burn the cloud cover, Phillippe Charlier- catacombs,

Draft #16:
Pre-fruit of evil is commentary on East/West spiritualism

Draft #17:
Women for Women international, tree decorated with bags, getting accepted to the wrong heaven, Little red riding hoodie, fairy tale album, Sing without refrain, Dracula on the stage, Here is eternal spring for you the very stars of heaven are dew, At my most troubled moment, I was a young woman, Quote on Mt. Zion Church, "Friendship is like a book, it only take a few seconds to burn."

Draft #18:
Baby wall filled with letters/journals, Tiger face paint a drunk person, Paint brush as grass, Birthday Dorothy Channing, Autotune Skype, Waterfall along curve of peeled orange, wicker body cage, Draw myself in the reflected bottom of a mug, Temple T essay, Oh my lord- peasant, Shark vs. Grizzly, little red riding hoodie, Window markers, Ink unbound from paper, monopole, oxygen diffuse across skin, way to/o normal illinois, say sorry to end consequences, Egg crate, cinder block art functionality, RealiTVH1, sky is the limit, Write essay in the shape of a naked lady, hard boil eggs in container, full sized Waldo cut out, write song, make music video, Destiny-destination, submit to wetriffs, how do you itching, neighborhood watch is easier when houses are close together, inflatable balloon that expands to umbrella, whisper down the lane with a phone number then call it, mosque-y toes, I'll never have to sneak out again, new friends reading old blogs, my uncle Mike tells stories where my dad is the witty hero, never seen squirrel poop

Picking Peaches

I like how the cats hang around the front step.

If I could be granted any wish, at this moment, I would wish to never be self-conscious so that I could be me all the time.

Tonight has been spent drawing feet and legs, since I so infrequently look at them.

I don't know if I want to go back to school yet. At the beginning of May, it couldn't come soon enough. Now, at the beginning of August, there are reasons to stay. Garnet Valley is a new place to me. I made more GV friends this summer than I have since freshman year band. I feel like a dowsing rod for excellence.

I wish I could read some of the letters that have been lost forever in Post Office purgatory.

Tom Jones FEAST

After $1 night bowling at AMF and running into Jeremy, we walked over to Arby's for exactly two curly fries and two sodas. Turned away at the walk in restaurant because it was closed, they directed us to the drive in. We returned to the cars, decided one car for seven people was most efficient, especially if the car in question was a Honda Civic. Pulling back around, the drive thru operator was amused by the late night antic. Accordingly, she gave us five extra dollar fries. Score.

Steve F. and I went back home to make brownies and talk. Someday we won't have this weird resistance between us, but still getting there. Almost as soon as we'd cut up the brownies, Nick called to escort me to Tom Jones. It was him, Gabby, Pat, and Aiden (whose name I remember!) in the car. They were grateful for brownies, especially Aiden the birthday boy. The ride was fun, some singing and a good discussion of Neil Young. At TJ's, we met up with Joel, Sarah, and Eric. It was good to see Joel, wonderfully enough. He's so purely oblivious in the best way, and Eric and Sarah are a comedic power couple. All but three of us ordered the Blue Ribbon Special. There was so much food and so much "stuff" on our table, it felt like a venerable feast. We lingered in conversation, tallied the money, but before leaving, saw two unexpected guests arrive in the restaurant. It was none other than Max G. and Ian! And they weren't alone, oh happy night! Taylor, "other Chloe," and Eric were also here! Some of the party in question had imbibed illicit substances, and the one whose body I would most like to touch spoke to me in drunken adoration. It was adorable! I'm infatuated! At this point, it was probably nearing two-ish? They ordered their meals, another round of Blue Ribbon Specials. It was so good! Promises were made for all of us to hang out again before the summer was over, and a few of us after the return to school. I got into my house a little shy of 4am. Beautiful life.

The Three Things I Learned at Motorcycling Class

"So be it! So be it! I cry in this manicured wilderness. "Who gives a damn!"
Excuse this outburst.

Motorcycling is not for me, though I learned a lot in the first five hour practice.

First, there are few things in my life I have needed or wanted that were difficult to learn. Motorcycling is one of them. It is a physical ride. My childhood fear of cars reverberates through the manufactured plastic and r-clips, and I question the lack of seatbelt. Frustration with the basic controls is compounded by knowing the consequence of a real-life failure. The pavement is very close and a huge number of otherwise minuscule forces have the potential for a really great moment. I alone seemed unable perform the simple motion of flex and squeeze, and I became childishly frustrated. That is the second thing I learned. I need to know that feeling of failure. It hurt in my gut and at the brim of my eyes- a full-bodied saline aftertaste that choked and stung. I sucked in my breath at the edge of crying. I queued the steps of stopping and asking to quit. Then I started breathing. I let it go. Some things won't come naturally, whether academically, in the work force, or growing a relationship. If I understand and anticipate this reaction, it will be easier to work through. It is how the body forces a reevaluation, whether to find a solution in walking away or trying something new. Finally, I recognized a good teacher. Two instructors monitored our course for the day. One, a retired Cornell math professor and grinning bike enthusiast named Tony, complemented his knowledge with unequaled encouragement. He knew I was frustrated, that I was scared and embarrassed. He responded with a soothing laugh that spoke "calm down, it's okay, take your time." He made me deeply ashamed of my impatient pride. If I am explaining something "stupidly easy" and the person doesn't catch on quickly, I am condescending and impatient in a disgusting way. How many times have I humiliated and discouraged my own mom asking for help? This arrogance needs to be purged if I ever intend to show love or kindness. Failure is a potent reminder to do so.

An excerpt from Kurt Vonnegut Jr.'s, Bluebeard:

"Fathers are always so proud, the first time they see their sons in uniform," she said.

"I know Big John Karpinksi was," I said. He is my neighbor to the north, of course. Big John's son Little John did badly in high school, and the police caught him selling dope. So he joined the Army while the Vietnam War was going on. And the first time he came home in uniform, I never saw Big John so happy, because it looked to him as though Little John was all straightened out and would finally amount to something.

But then Little John came home in a body bag.

App-uh-latch-uh

On Thursday, I took the train into Neshaminy for backpacking in the Appalachians with m'boys, aka Kevin, Jake, Bubba, and Austin. Bubba and Kevin were at the station to greet me with hugs and a ride to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows pt. 2. Kevin's mom saved us seats while we toured their mall and went to Dollar Tree for snacks. A mall's a mall, but your own mall is filled with your friends, as we ran into Ryan, a friend of Kevin's. We didn't have time for knock-off DDR, unfortunately, but that meant it was time for the movie.

Okay, now I've been divorced from Harry Potter culture roughly since the day the seventh book came out. In the meanwhile, I was a Potter kid. I went to three or four book releases; I dressed up; I bought auxiliary merchandise. In any fiction, I love the construction of worlds. It's something J. K. Rowling had a knack for. In the fifth book, she departed from vivid descriptions of the culture and commerce of the wizarding world to focus on character development. Unfortunately, her characters were cardboard cut-outs of "I'm not interested." It was a big part of my childhood, but I moved on. That said, I cried three times during the film.

After that, we played Trivial Pursuit Junior at Kevin's until Austin was free to go swimming. It's very encouraging to rock the junior version. Austin has a salt-water pool, which was different. I was glad to see his pug, Pug, again. It's like an even more exaggerated version of a normal pug. Swimming, some food, and finally, bed time. The next day, Kevin went into Philly to get his passport, so I hung out with Bubba and ran errands. On the self checkout, I rang up my apples as bananas so I would stay under $7. It felt good and bad. We headed to Jake's to grab a backpack. Mrs. N missed me apparently, though we'd only met twiceish. That visit lasted longer than expected. Blah blah blah, I napped, we went to the meet up point to join the group of fourteen, we left. I quickly made a sing-along playlist, and got to belting as soon as we hit the highway. Two and a half hours later, we were lost, but close to the campsite. Bubba is the best driver of the bunch, so the woods were no match for the Outback.

It was rough stuff setting up in the dark, seeing as we got to the campsite after midnight. I slept outside on a picnic table, though not for lack of a tent. I kept my boots on through the night and experienced both unpleasant heat and chill under my sheet. In the morning, I started the fire and talked with Austin until everyone else woke up. We set off for the hike pretty quickly, and it retrospectively seems like a short time. We were drenched in sweat the entire time, and there were points where boys wrung out several ounces of sweat from their shirts. All in all, we hiked a little under ten miles of the Appalachian Trail, Pine Grove Furnace south to Caledonia and the return. The best part of the day was heading to the lake afterward. It was a horribly overrun tourist destination, but beautiful none the less. The first roped off section ended at 5', and the deeper portion at 30. We had a contest where we'd start where we could stand and swim along the bottom into the deep abyss. It was freezing once the depths hit below ~20'. Kevin, wearing goggles, reported that there were schools of fish in the murkier depths. Although there were three life guards on duty and our camping group alone consisted of four and a half lifeguards, visibility ended at 7', and we made jokes about dead bodies at the bottom.

We left to make our campground dinner of pre-packaged, dehydrated chicken noodle soup and beef stroganoff. The night lasted a while. We were reprimanded by the park ranger for noise during chirades, of all things. My moment to brag about: during the second round of sardines, I was the sardine, and hid at the picnic table with the three people not participating. Two separate people came to the table asking if I'd been spotted. I was declared a genius and only found by one other sardine until "it" got me. Kevin, Amanda, Rachel, and I had a good conversation out by the bonfire, and we hit the hay. Unfortunately, our staged bear attack on the girl's tent went poorly. I joined them for Never Have I Ever towards the end, but excused myself of exhaustion. Sleeping was much much better that night.

On the way back, we had a better sing-along. Bubba and I had some really great notes, and he sang harmony in a way that made me jealous. At one point, Austin even made a little clap of approval. Back in Neshaminy, we hit up the Cracker Barrel for lunch-breakfast, and I was on the train home three hours later.

Talley:
4 mosquito bites
No sun burn
No poison ivy
One great trip

Late nights, I listen to jazz, play guitar, and read. Sometimes I sing.
How impossible.

Loose Lips Sink Friendships

Odd thing to think about- there's an American flag in every single public school classroom in the good ole' U.S. of A.

I FEEL LIKE HOT SHIT. DAYUMM.
Maybe it's for lack of air conditioner.

This is an important summer. There's a new sense of independence and self-sufficiency. Traveling was the first thing to bring it on, but this is the first summer I feel so comfortable with my parents. I've got my shit together, more or less, and I'm learning. I feel good in my sun burnt skin.

Coming home meant experiencing everyone again. College changed us, or we changed ourselves. There's an air of excitement. Yes, there have been times I've felt out of mind. I second guess myself. Those thoughts happen, and can be easily fought with a purpose. I'm going to try for biology. Chemistry is the only thing holding me back, but it's about time I developed a work ethic. I've got Gen. Chem. I from 11:00-11:50 MWF. When I consulted Alexis about the bio major, she said, "I always knew you'd turn to science." That's what Mr. P. said senior year. It's infinitely better than settling for an anonymous liberal arts degree for the sake of having a degree.

There's a tiny fear that I won't grow a pair and suck it up. I'm proving to myself that I really mean it. I just finished lecture two of MITs open courseware Calc class. I'm reading Plato's The Republic because I dropped political philosophy to take chemistry. I can teach myself anything in the liberal arts, and it would make me so much more the well rounded person to have a solid foundation in chemistry and physics. I want this.

Plus, I look super cute in a lab coat.

Alalia

Saturday night, Joe invited a few of us over for a late night gathering. I'd spent the day lolling about the Grist Mill with cool kids, but felt extremely anxious about my loss of words, how I'd forgotten to speak. Being with these people I've known for so long put me completely at ease. It was warmth. It was tipsy friends telling jokes. It was watching smiles. When skinny dipping was suggested, I felt practically family. The moon was so bright it cast solid shadows on deck and lit the pool. I immediately wanted to dive. Looking into the water, I forgot how to dive. It's not something I do often, but something natural. I hesitated, then fell into a dive. I'd never felt more of more perfect form. My whole body extended and swooping through supportive medium. Even air felt custom designed for my body. We swam in the pool for a bit, eventually retreating to the warmth of the modest, bubbly hot tub. We had some conversations I really took to heart, and I fell even more in love with Meg and Joe. A little bit of that was jealousy, but it's more knowing that love can be made to work. Then Joe repeated requests for ladies to start making out, and the moment became something even more real. I remember how to speak.

Friday Beach, Monday Beach

Burnt both days.

Friday, my mom and I took a ladies' day to Ocean City, NJ. I was a bitch on the way there, but mostly calmed myself once at the shore. We both read pretty substantially, and I got in roughly two hours of swimming. Around 2, I walked over to Ben's shore house to catch up with lazy bum friends who hadn't come to the beach yet. It was so great seeing Jill, Steve, Matt, and Ben again, even though I'd seen Matt the week before. Ben, Steve, and I went swimming for a bit, talking music and movies and whether or not Eddie Murphy was going to be The Riddler in the newest Batman addition. He is not. We caught a wave in, and I joined Matt in sandcastle building. A young girl came to appraise our work, and Jill reported that a set of young boys had come around earlier like old art critics- solemnly and silently judging the mastery of sandcraft. We retired to talk around my mom for the remainder of my stay, talking crazy business ventures and the viability of food vending trucks as a legitimate career move. Mom said we must leave by 4, so I bid "goodbye until Canada," which was at least a pleasant thought. Just over the bridge back to the rest of Jersey, we got a flat tire. Luckily, the popo kindly stopped and helped us change tires. The rest of the ride was uneventful.

Monday! More beach! I spent the night at Katie's, running on six hours of sleep to tackle another day of ladies (+ Mr. R.). The ride down was fun, a little awkward, but went quickly. We stopped by their mom-mom's house for supplies and hellos, promising to see them later. The sand was soft, the water was cold, and the company agreeable. I read a little of Mrs. Dalloway and napped. We hit the Jersey Shore Wildwood style, and I thought of many a drumline night and whether or not the C.'s were down the beach too. It was a really great night, and the ride home almost better. Shannon and her friend, also a Katie, talked about senior pranks, so I got to share the beautiful and inspirational hopes of me and Matt. They had enviable imaginations, and it continued throughout the rest of the night.

Reprehensible Things

I think one of the worst things I've ever done was sing-scream, "Make me feel tiny if it makes you feel tall," at Trisha during a party at Sarah J.'s. It was certainly an apt line.

Spilling Anxiety

When did I become so fearful and judgmental? Sometimes, I feel there is nothing worthwhile in my thoughts- there's nothing of substance. I can't remember how to get to know someone. I have an excruciating fake laugh and even a fake voice, depending on who I'm with. What use are my thoughts if they're undirected and with nothing to show or speak of them?

Despite these anxious feelings, today was wonderful. I "tutored" Jackie. Walked barefoot in the Grist Mill. Finished The Fountainhead. Took a nap in the hammock. Watched Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Pt. 1) with Melissa, Matt, and Krissy.

What kind of a treadmill do I need to feel satisfied? I don't have anything to show for the past year that I'm proud of, but I was wholesomely content with the routine. If it weren't for stories, I don't know where I'd be.

D.C.

The Megabus was long and quiet, letting me catch a little sleep despite the freezing temperature. I arrived in DC a little after one AM and walked to the corner to see the Capitol. It was impressive, lit up against the night, but my leaning on the corner's lamppost elicited a holla from two young guys in a car, so I walked back to the bus station. Nicki picked me up promptly afterward, and I met her boo, Marvin. We got decent pizza together, then parted ways and hit the hay. The following morning, we took the AU bus to the metro. The Metro. The marvel of architecture and transportation as envisioned by Big Brother. I couldn't wrap my head around the workings of the metro card- swipe in for free, it tracks your exit, and charges you by the distance traveled. There's no personal information encoded on them (though it's an option to do so), but I'm dubious about whether or not the metro is the only technology capable of tracking the cards. In voicing this, Nicki exclaimed, "It's the capitol. It's a little more expected." That sounds like what they want you to think.... :P It was a short walk to the zoo, free, like every other cultural institution I'm so jealous of. Our first route had very few animals in it. No sloth bear. No panda bear. No fisher cat. There was a clouded leopard, which was one of my favorite big cats as a child, and I was pretty into the big cats. Unsurprisingly, my favorite exhibit wound up being the dual tiger/lion enclosures. The solitary tiger paced along the concrete barrier of the water and seemed to follow us. The lions of the National Zoo had cubs in May, and the adolescents were more lively than any other big cats I'd seen. In watching them, the impending rain unleashed. We took shelter under a bamboo alcove, as there was nothing solid in view. The lions ignored it. Ignoring the rain wasn't hard for us, but ignoring the ensuing humidity was more difficult. It was a new experience for rain to only worsen the condition of the heat. Another interesting stop was the bird house. In one open air room, there was a blue bird, about the size of a squat crow, whacking something against a rock. It was a mouse, thoroughly dead. Leaving, we walked to Adams-Morgan, a neighborhood solely dedicated to "food and drink." A sign warned caution to vehicles, as the main drag becomes an informal pedestrian zone after a certain hour. I got a crepe, and we bunkered down at Nicki's falafel place to wait out the returning rain. It lasted through the meal and into leaving, so we took a cab back to the university. Nap time. Some hours later, we were ready to hit the streets. Marvin knew people at a few clubs, but we wound up sitting at DuPont circle and enjoying the early morning. It was lovely and had me thinking of petty romance. Nicki dropped me off at the bus stop early the next day, so I read The Fountainhead. This continued on the bus, ending only when I took the luxury to cry for a few silent moments.

Lancaster-York-Red Lion

Wednesday morning, I found myself on a train for something under two hours. Although my book was too engrossing to acknowledge the 'Hook to Philly ride, the passing landscape held my attention out in farm country. The rural graffiti interspersed with clothes lines and silos brought more of an appreciation for modern Americana, and the Lancaster station was beautifully in that line of thought. Its vaulted ceiling was lit by a dirty skylight and the paint was peeling from every surface. Matt was already outside when I arrived. We drove the forty minutes to Red Lion, Matt explaining all of the little towns and counties on our way. It was fun. We hung out all day with another Matt, checking out various locales. We went to "the Top of the World" and hot-tubbed with more friends and a view unlike any I've seen from a suburban hot-tub. Bedtime rolled around 4 am, and I fell dead asleep. In the morning, we had breakfast then went out to Tom's Music Trade Store. It was impressive. Boxes. and Boxes. and Boxes. and Boxes and boxes and boxes. I spent thirty dollars on records. We got pizza at Central Pizza, and that was our day. I missed my first train back to Philly, but it was either wait in Lancaster or wait in the city. In waiting, I finished reading The Great Train Robbery and moved on to The Fountainhead. Luckily, there were no lights available for reading in the Megabus to DC, so I put it away and thought.

Commencement

To myself included, I've promised several people that this would be for me "The Year of Travel." Being in Philadelphia helped me realize my freedom of movement. Theoretically, it had always been there. Catching a train and the subway isn't hard, neither is catching the bus and getting a passport. Tomorrow is when I start to keep that promise in reality. My alarm is set for 8am. My bag is packed with clothes and a couple books. I'm catching the 9:30 out of Marcus Hook, eventually arriving in Lancaster to hang out in the warm summer company of "crazy Matt F." There are a couple things I hope we'll accomplish during my visit including meeting his friends, going to the legendary "Roburrito's," hiking to a view of Red Lion, and exploring an abandoned minigolf course. Thursday, I catch the train back to Philly and from there depart on a late bus to D.C. to visit Nicki and her free museums.

Two weeks from now is backpacking.
A month from now, O Canada.

It helps to have good examples of travelers.

Big Night in Little City

I went to hang out with Sara in Philly yesterday. Taking the train was quick, and I got to reading Up from Slavery by Booker T. Washington. The preface, introduction, and first chapter are good so far.... From the station, I walked to the Mutter Museum a little south of 22nd and Market and met her biking. Big hugs, big news, and lots of fun in the macabre museum. There are so many terrible, terrible jokes that can only be told in the context of looking at medical freak shows. After two hours of perusing the displays, I settled for two post cards and a recommendation from the cashier to check out "Iron Maiden Futurism" if I liked defacing money.

We made our way south from there. Conversation while walking is very pleasant. We discussed our religious histories, filled each other in on our goings-on with menfolk, I got the scoop on her pseudo-boo Bryan, and we looked into probably five restaurants before declaring ourselves too broke for human food. From there, we walked to the South St. Diner. Relatively cheap, we got french toast and pancakes between us. Sara asked for blueberry syrup, and our waitress said she'd go look. Bringing back whole blueberries, we continued eating and talking. Sometime later, Sara noted that they'd better not charge her for the berries when she'd really wanted syrup. Lo and behold, it was a dollar for the dish of fruit. Politely contesting it with the waitress, the woman declared, "There's no such thing as blueberry syrup, and I've worked in five diners. You asked for a side of blueberries, and I brought them to you. You can take it up with the manager if you want." During that, we countered respective with, Sara - "I have blueberry syrup at home." "Have you ever been to Perkins?" Me- "IHOP?" "She said syrup." And so, to the manger, who immediately dismissed the charge. That's how broke we were, even though it contradicts the next story.

After eating, we went to Na Ka Oi Tiki Tatoo, one of the best parlors in Philly according to Sara. She was going to get little silver dermals on her chest, and immediately upon entering the establishment, I agreed with her superlative. The man who attended to her, Luis Garcia, had the most professional attitude I've seen in any store in Philadelphia. There was an extensive conversation to go over the procedure, risks, and cleaning, and he knew his job. Ten minutes later, she had her new jewelry, and I hadn't had enough time for an impulse purchase. Oh well. She paid in cash, and we made our way back to Temple.

We took a little sit down break in Franklin Square Park to try the swings. We unfortunately realized we were old and the swings were a bit much, so we sat on a bench. In using the park's bathroom, I put my bags in the sink rather than the floor. Some seconds later, I realized it was an automatic sink. That's pretty fancy for a park. Just past Market St., Sara recognized a guy on a bike who stopped to chat. It was pseudo-boo Bryan! He invited her to a movie last minute, but not being able to, expressed desires for later plans. What a coincidence. Philadelphia is really just a giant neighborhood.

Finally getting back to her house (readers should appreciate the 5.3 miles we walked), I got to meet her amazing roommate, Robin, and we have a lovely little sleepover. :]

Book Ends

At the end of each trip to Myrtle Beach, I repeatedly declare, "Last year was the best year of my life." It seems I've meant it more emphatically as time goes on. This year's reflections lingered on boys and growing up. My friends are stupendous. I've had the company of undeserving-ly great guys. The path to grown up-hood has made its presence known, even if exact route can't be found until the end. It's my last year as a teenage girl, and I've been blessed.

Once, when texting with Kate, I wanted to wide-eyed look her in the eyes and say, "You're so wise," in a semi-somber tone. It was true, but there's no way to for me to say that without sounding silly.

Last night, I said goodbye to Jeff (again). I was grateful for the second chance to do justice by our friendship. I laughed a lot and made both of his parents laugh, too. Ginger was not a fan of my jokes, though. There were chocolate chip cookies and fireworks. (Why there were fireworks, I don't know.) We shared a nice goodbye hug and I didn't cry, even when I was alone. It's scary that he's leaving right now, but it'll be a phenomenal story when he gets back.

Notes from Da Beach!

Things from the Beach:

Places to visit:
*Morocco
Kuala Lumpur- Malaysia
Spain
Paris
San Francisco
Chicago
Atlanta
Boston
Las Vegas
Toronto or Montreal
Jerusalem
Rome
Ireland
India
South Africa
Egypt
Australia
New Zealand
The bandwagon is full
"'Bye, Ben, sparklers and flowers, the lamp of the music."
"exquisite camp"- on Lady Gaga
move-ie
things to do:
scuba diving
sky dive
live in another country
speak another language (French?)
travel*
"be well read"
write short stories
get a camera
hot air balloon
swim in the Mediterranean and Pacific
learn to surf
climb a mountain
cliff jump

spring in NYU
work for the city
volunteer for the Franklin Institute
(other museum?)
gallery work...?

Brandywine trip
get Gab's address
find TU last day
Joe + Jane's #
investigate flights
Kira + Chloe visit Gab?
find how long Sara's in Philly
+ Mutter Museum
Emily G. + printing
DRIPs - PECO?

visit:
boys
Ben
Matt F.
Kira
Stasi
Allison
Danielle with Tina
Nicki
Nick (camping)
NYC Kat
Sara

watch The Godfather
email Mrs. G.
write thank-yous
I Will project
TU scholarships

Shane Keaney

library:
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Shakespeare Collection
Paul Bowles
alexkopps.com
Gaudi
comity
fey
Vincent Moon
"a tall girl for a sister..."
St. Paul
Ines de la Fressange
babbitting
pugilistic
atelier
prestidigitations
Parnassus
"Tomming realists"
pentimenti
mannerist

Environmental Studies
Geography & Urban Studies
Political Science
Community & Regional Planning
Architecture
Horticulture
Psychology
Biology
Anthropology

Dear Chloe,

Even good kids can hurt their parents deeply without realizing it. It feels terrible to realize. I feel like shit knowing how hurtful I am to my mom. This woman who is, literally, living for you and your brother, and you're so disdainful. Still, she is infinitely the better person for taking it and knowing you're just a child. It doesn't make it sting any less, she's just that much more the grown up. Forgive yourself and do your best to be kind. It's all you can do. It really is all there is to the world.

It's okay to be disingenuous now too, to an extent. You're 18 years old, nearly 19. That's the very beginning of life. Kids are naturally themselves- they don't know any different. You're still growing up and finding the many different people you could be. It's okay to find some of them aren't a good fit for you. There's time to settle into yourself. Again, be kind, and you'll come to like grown up Chloe. There's a lot of natural potential there, so don't worry too hard. Really, all the amazing people in your life are there because you're pretty cool too. Of all the people in your life, you probably think the least of yourself, which is something, considering how much you show off. :P A good remedy for that would be good old fashioned work. Things do come naturally to you, and it's certainly a gift. But barely acceptable work doesn't cut it. Honest to goodness, you're only truly exceptional when you work, and knowing that you can and have done great things tends to alleviate personal anxieties. Yes, there isn't one grand goal to work towards right now, but that's no excuse. The person you want to be is a good role model, is someone you'd want to respect. That person is responsible and does a good job- no more half-assing things. The ability is there. If you want to play guitar, do it. If you want to know how to sew, spend time applying yourself. "It takes time and effort." All important things do. You shouldn't be proud of anything that took less than twenty minutes. Unless speed and quick-thinking were absolutely key.

Those are really big, generalizing claims that you can't be too sure of, being only 18 and all. The one thing I know for certain is to cool it with the boys. Yes, post-college abyss of freedom is really scary to think about, but college is not the time to figure everything out. For one, there are truly amazing opportunities you're going to miss if you try to decide things too early. Grow up a little before getting locked into things and enjoy being young in the meantime. You've been pretty good about making options for yourself when not taking advantage of everything already available. That's a quality that should stick around for a while. Let the rest of you settle down. You're an absolute stunner, it's true. Any guy who will be good for you is going to like you. Find a whole bunch of those. Experience romance and another heartbreak or two. That way you'll know what to do in case something really serious happens. Yeah, it might suck being a teenage girl for another year, but things have more weight when you're older. That's why you need to be mature in order to handle it. It'll be okay. With more pain comes more breathtaking. You live an exquisite life, just keep with the following: Be kind. Be patient. Do work. You're a good kid.

Love,
Chloe

one day makes it better

babies and philly and reading and being almost sorta on my own and responsible for myself and beautiful weather and smiles and baking a surprise birthday cake

I wish I'd been born a boy

My dad could be proud of me in the way he wants to.
My mom and I wouldn't have fought.
I would've never had to kiss Jeff.
I could've loved some girls in a way they needed.
I wouldn't have hurt so much.
I would've felt better about math and science.
I wouldn't have to bleed once a month.
I would've been able to join Boy Scouts.
I might've made a good father instead of being scared to be a mom.

Viv

One of the best and most perfect moments of friendship was when I IM'd Viv full of tears and pain of an adolescent girl, and she accidentally sent me a picture of syphilitic balls. It made me feel so so so much better and so Viv.

I want dirty music and angry sex and something that hurts.
fuck

I'm roughly certain that the pill killed my sex drive. Since going off, I've been so fond of my imagination and internet supplements. It maybe helps that things my "dood" situation has taken its first stimulating shift in nearly two years.

I'm going to listen to Ke$ha and 3OH!3 for a bit and thought it was worth announcing.

I am so unreasonably angry I am going running, but first, here is some fiction

When I woke up, my whole back itched, and the fervent dreams from the night before hadn't been so fantastical. Nearly the entire length of my spine was covered in oversized goosebumps. A cold shower calmed the need to scratch a bit, but lotion did nothing to help. I laid face down on my bed to air-dry the damp before putting on a shirt. Some of the bumps were red where angry pink lines had been carelessly drawn by my nails. I spent the day and another night in irritable spirits, sleeping and having nightmares.

In the morning, I refused consciousness to avoid recognizing the persistent itching. Except I wasn't itchy. My eyes opened and I jumped out of bed to check my back. Except that I didn't, because I was stuck in the shredded fabric of my former sheets. I screamed. The entirety of my back was covered in short, pointed bristles. The dung beetle of the metamorphosis hadn't been so terrified to wake up a dung beetle as I was to wake up a porcupine. And he wasn't expected to get a summer job. Those were poor choices for a first mental response, but I've always been a little prone to denial. I called my dad before any attempts at reaching a doctor. I was embarrassed, but scared, and that cut through his disbelief. I wasn't in much pain, but he advised that I take some advil and stay put until he got home. I googled for med reports of something similar happening, but empty-handed settled on the wikipedia article for porcupines. They're the third largest rodent, and the "porc" of porcupine is from the French word for pig. Great. I took a furtive pull at one of the lower quills. Definitely connected to nerves. I wondered if it was communicable and that I should probably call my mom. She'd be upset it'd taken so long for me to think of calling her.

Today

Useless Post

In the here and right now of my room back (at?) home, I am Chloe. At a show in West Chester where I am intimidated and making awkward small talk with people whose names I can't quite remember, I am also Chloe. At Temple University or texting other students from that great institution, I am Chloe. When I go to church on a Sunday morning, whether the denomination is Catholic or Baptist, I am still Chloe.

Context does have a large influence on who I am moment to moment, but that's due to my changing reactions, not an underlying change.

If I can't articulate what has changed, and I'm not sure what all I have changed from, and I still manage to function pretty well, then it probably doesn't matter. What probably does matter is a realistic and thorough look at my present, and what that may mean for my future.

What Do I Want

I want to fall in love again, but I suspect that is a fickle notion brought about by feelings of summertime and my recent reading material. Everything Matters! was a good recommendation from Dan, and revitalized a little hero worship for my dad. Both that sentiment and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance have made me question my definition of masculine and what I look for in a guy. It's a good complement to my recent self-probing on what it means to be feminine. I've determined that on a day to day basis, the kinds of guys I want to date are different from the ones I'd spend the rest of my life with, and that I don't want to get hurt by wasting my time with incompatible people. I still fall infatuated by talent, though. Such is life, and boys and girls have always had such a sad time with each other. My lack of emotion has prevented any worthwhile attachments recently, to more or less anything. (Though I've been crying a lot lately for not feeling much.) I'd like for some passion to externally direct who I should become, but there is still nothing that I'd be satisfied doing for eight hours a day. I need the variation, and maybe a kick in the pants. I'm going to call Tyler's admissions on Monday and ask about their Bachelor of Arts in Art. It's an almost redundant degree, but complements a liberal arts degree and would give me that creative outlet I've been missing. We'll see. I've got some basic sketches for upcoming projects, and maybe I should write. I started journaling again. Summer is good for that, as is this notebook meant for Italy- Steve did a good job with it. I'm going to read for a bit more. Mom and I are going to the 12 o'clock service at Holy Child, and she wants me to wear the white dress we got around Easter, so in the morning I'll be shaving for Jesus.

It Sets In

I saw Matt's status today, that his phone is out of commission, so I purposefully checked Jamie's Facebook allusions. "Rome is calling, dare I answer?"

When I applied for the program, I entertained the thought of posting a status, "...is going to Italy." or some such sentiment. Still, my fear of embarrassment held off until I was actually accepted into the program, prompting a more excited, "IS GOING TO ITALY!!!!" There were multiple exclamation points.

I really am glad to be in the GVal this summer. I learned how to talk to people and not be intimidated while I was away, so I'm going to have my life on better terms and with good people. It'll even be a little more wild to try to make up for not being away, but ultimately just another suburban summer.

I won't drink. I won't wear make up every day. I won't get my hair cut short. I won't fuck strangers. I won't go to a nude beach and feel glamorous. I won't try new food. I won't have traveled to Europe. I won't have been responsible for myself in a foreign city. I won't have cried in public over the majesty of human achievement. I won't be scared, though likely still lonely. I won't buy fresh food from a market. I won't cook my own meals. I won't visit my Dutch family. I won't travel by sleeper train. I won't have dealt with jet lag. I won't be aware of cultural differences. I won't sketch and paint a gorgeous city. I won't see important monuments. I won't see famous art. I won't stay in a hostel. I won't be any more exotic at the end of this. I probably won't even get that tan.

Manifest

Chew slowly and sing often. Be silly. Be honest. Be kind. Don't judge a person based on the opinions of somebody else. Find things to laugh about. Make art and think clearly. Dim lighting is really attractive. Listen, listen, listen. Watch and observe. Talk to artists, musicians, small children and the elderly, philosophers who see the humor in their title, people who write well, and your family. Read non-fiction and sci-fi with some regularity then think about what you read. Say yes to invitations, especially ones that make you uncomfortable. Dance without alcohol. It's okay to talk to strangers. Call your friends. Hand write a letter every now and then. Drink lots of water. Go barefoot in the grass. Keep at least one plant on hand at all times. Spend some time in a hammock. Skinny dip at least once. Stargaze. Sneak out while you still have a chance. Don't wear a lot of make up. "Use sunscreen." Marvel at the fact your body is still going sometimes; there are some pretty complex systems going on that don't take a lot to stop working properly. Swim. Go to bonfires. At least make attempts to learn another language. Give and receive hugs. Kiss some nice people. Find volunteer work that means something to you. Experience laundry dried on the line. Wash dishes by hand for a period. Jump off a rope swing into a river.

It's okay to not remember these things all the time, except for the one about being kind, but it happens sometimes, so use at as a lesson for the next time.

The American Middle Class

The ampersand and the semicolon are tools to distance myself from the lower rungs of middle America.

Judgy judgy judgy. That's me at the Marcus Hook carnival, despite the fact I'd likely find a more honest reception at Chi than GV. They lost power. I saw nothing but rust and R-clips. Every ride was a scaled down and less trustworthy version of my prototype childhood carnival. Maybe it is only a change in perspective coming from age. Katie did my make up to go out. I find much more comfort wearing make up in places nobody knows me. It's like dressing up, except they don't know I'm in costume. I loved it. I felt so cute. I could've flirted with any of the tattoo'd ride operators, but instead spent my time not riding rides to observe the people around me. A little girl left her newly won goldfish on the platform of an especially loud and rattly machine. Parents and small children were prone to yelling. While the carnival is usually a summer attraction, the jail-bait in shorts did not consider that it is still very much spring time and the nights get chilly. A mom and I discussed that while waiting for our parties enjoying the Berry-Go-Round. The power outage left the "coconut shrimp" stand without power but persevering in serving cold corn dogs. Alex made an interesting investment with the "egg custard" snow cone. It wasn't bad. The night was a success.

Flight v. Invisibility

It was a busy year. It's not that things were unpleasant, but there were times I had to force myself through it. My future has always been envisioned at the tempo of my dad. He moves at a purposeful pace. I picked up so much, but nothing with meaningful quality, not even gardening. That'll take a little more devotion before it is truly a part of me. I'll take things slowly in Italy. Yes, I will learn, but it's not an attempt to learn as much as possible. My mode of ambition has been, "I want to be something." Not, "I want to become something." Whatever thing I will enjoy "becoming," that's what I should pursue in life.

The innocence of Chloe, the lack of awareness, was broken recently, and it is unsettling. I feel insecure for the first time in memory, despite the encouraging world around me. I'll move slowly and observe and listen for a bit. Purposefully.

Jesus Does a Book Tour

Last night, I buckled down to finish my criminal justice essay. I passed up an opportunity to beach party and got down to research. At midnight, Ben texted, wondering if he could take my peanuts to the "study day" celebrations. Realizing this is the last week of college, I internally screamed, "fuck this paper!" and went with them. Matt, Steve, Ben, and I hung on the beach, confused as to where the party went. We later convened with Kira, Gab, and Amaury, talked a bit, parted ways, then hung out in my room until four. Hells yeah, fuck that paper. I fell asleep with the Christmas lights on.

Last night, I went out to get noodles with TCG in place of our regular meeting. We took the Market-Frankfort from York-Dauphin because we were already at Urban Roots. Because of a series of unfortunate events, we almost missed the Reading Terminal Market, but the six minutes afforded us were enough for Kira to get a Mother's Day present. The tiny noodle place had $3 mysterious peanut noodle. They were the best noodles I've ever had in my entire life. Nan Zhou Hand Drawn Noodles at 9th and Race. Wow. Unfortunately, I had to eat them on the run, because at 6:27, I got a text reminding me of work at 6:30 down below Federal. Shit. I'm in my flip-flops, ran off too stupidly to remember Gab had all my cards and money, and am eating noodles. It was poor planning. Despite that, I finished the noodles around Market and ran (in flops), the rest of the way (~a mile and a half). I was disgustingly sweaty and warm, but I suspect that aquarobics and zumba paid off. There's no way I could've made that run beforehand. Return to TU at 9:30, I so desperately wanted to live in Philly over the summer. It was perfect warm for a tank top, and some trees had white Christmas lights in them.

"This week, a princess got married and the bad guy died."

The year went fast.
The people are good.
The work wasn't hard.
The learning was real.
The city is real.
The nights and days are real.
The friends are real.
The life is almost real.

Perpetual Dawn

I explored the Tyler galleries not thirty minutes ago with Wes and Kira. When else could it happen. I love college.
I love college.
I love college.
I love college.
My last class is Monday.

Crawling in Bed with the Birds

This morning, I had one of those nights. Something worked out for me at some point, 'cuz I have amazing friend and my role in the group is "actualizing do-gooder." Yesterday, absolutely gorgeous, I spent all free time on the beach with whatever group I would inevitably find. The last such group of the day was Ben and Steve. Within ten minutes of my setting down with them, it was proposed we investigate the rumors of animal testing in Weiss and locate the rooftop access which had been confirmed to exist. We found both. And Harry and Kira. Although we saw no actual animals, there were numerous cages and a few rat boxes on the top floors we were able to access. After much finagling, we also found the unlocked door to the roof. It was so warm and windy on the roof. Weiss is one of the tallest buildings on campus, which offered a gorgeous view of Philadelphia. I pointed out the abandoned elementary school I explored with Matt, Tom, and Emily. Harry voiced his intent to enter the Divine Lorraine. Then the boys made paper planes with inscriptions to launch off the roof. It was hipster beautiful to watch them float off. They really did look like birds.

Kira and I went to aquarobics and zumba without having dinner in between. I was a little too matchy-match with my red shirt to my face.

It gets to about 11:30, and it gets time to enact another one of my collegiate dreams: "late night beaching." Nearly all of my friends had taken part, and I'd yet to go through with it. I text up a crowd, enticing with promises of Swedish fish and peanuts. So began the night. I brought a blanket, as did Gab (fashioning hers into a cape). Her and Kira flew around the Bell Tower and saved the world. We had a venerable beach party and three pounds of peanuts to keep it going. We played "Pterodactyl" and "Animals." I was overjoyed that Sam knew "No Soap Radio." We shared history. Ben and I made the same references all night. We climbed a tree. A drunken man forcefully entered the temporary castle, and we shouted, "All hail the kind!" He later mooned us, then introduced himself. He was very nice. We also saw boobies. The cops were out full force and told us it was because of "vandals." As all the best nights do, this one ended. Gab flew off to J&H, so I ran to hug her and got a flying leap of a hug with more laughter than anything. Kira joined the hug puddle and we shook with "I can't believe this is happening. She flew into my arms." It was the purest hug I may've ever had.


And I shout and I shout and I shout.

The Weekend

in doodle

Been Awake Since 7:41AM

After tonight's text purge, I noticed the last time posted in my secret blog was September 4th of 2010. I know that capturing the actual "text" of a text is the essence, and that it's impractical to leave the electronic message on one's phone, but there is still something disconcerting about deleting the originals.

This weekend was perfect in nearly every way. There is a doodle summary on its way, but I felt so inelegant and unfeminine at nearly every turn. When I encounter guys that I like, I assume that there's no way a relationship could work out, whether personal or circumstantial reasons. It's almost chronic at this point, especially as I've been surrounded by guys in various states of infatuation. I might start wearing make up. I might become a little bit less me (independent) and a little more me (soft and accepting).

Tonight, I felt that I had a purpose and place in life; I could see for a moment what others see in me.

I don't know what I want, but it is the first time in a long time, in a very long time relative to the changes in my life, that I feel free.

The Person I Want to Be

The person that I want to be drinks a lot of lemonade and has a hammock and a garden. The person that I want to be makes eye contact and smiles at strangers on the street. The person I want to be doesn't get drunk. The person that I want to be has skydived and lived to tell the tale. The person that I want to be makes phone calls instead of texts. The person I want to be is in the inner circle of great minds, but not the spotlight. The person I want to be would make 7th grade Chloe uneasy, but proud. The person I want to be sends cards for friends' birthdays. The person I want to be has journals and binders and sketchbooks of good ideas. The person I want to be lives with a lot of sunshine and fresh air. The person I want to be doesn't drive a lot. The person I want to be laughs a lot and spends time with children. The person I want to be can't stop smiling. The person I want to be doesn't always know what's right and doesn't always do what's best, but she owns up to her mistakes and is sincerely acting for the best end. The person I want to be loves without fear. The person I want to be reads Catch-22 and Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close every so often. The person I want to be is crafty. The person I want to be is a little bit resilient. The person I want to be has a big bathtub. The person I want to be keeps a journal instead of a blog. The person I want to be is somebody I've almost become. The person I want to be is always improving.

Heaven on Earth

The name of the Facebook album was "Heaven on Earth," the album that summed up my day in the garden and the dirt with children and the love and discovery and awe. It's my life now, several days a week, and there's a giant quarter block garden in my future.

I'm with people who can avoid yuppie-dom by doing all of their schemes, and I've become their actualizer, the life coach who makes it happen. It's an influential role, even if not in the spotlight. I've always pegged myself on the inner-circle of excellence, but not the star. I love them. I love that role.

All I can scream and whisper or think and speak is thank you thank you. This is the proverbial "good," and the best most perfect movie screen weekend. Stay in my life. Stay in my life.

Privileged to this Life

There's this impossible goodness to my life right now. It's like the future will be lit by Christmas lights and we'll throw dinner parties on our roofs in the late summer dusk. Things are in motion. Philadelphia is the place to be and the people to be with. I saw a StorySlam and the artistry of graphic design. It's moving frighteningly fast. We're a quarter done undergrad and keeping pace. It's warm loveliness.

Owlumni

Tonight was the community garden's fundraiser banquet. We doubled our private bank account, informed the community there's actually non-toxic dirt somewhere on campus, and ate (slightly less than) a ton of great food. Steve came. I everyone I personally invited came. Danielle lent me an entire outfit and did my makeup, and I was adorable. It was a wonderful, wonderful night.

Kira is now in possession of a 9' tall steel bear skeleton- reduced to a Kira-tall bear skeleton torso.

Biking to work was unreasonably pleasant this morning as was watching sarcasm be explained to a three year old girl. Even more so was biking to the fabric district and browsing swatches in the after-work, afternoon sun. Completing my survey of fabric distributors, I headed over to Rittenhouse to bother Kevin on his project. We hung out and talked in the grass for approximately two hours following its completion.

Gab and I made dirt (pudding/oreo/gummi worm) upon my return to campus, with Tina on the assist later proclaiming, "If I liked pudding or chocolate, y'all would have to give me one of those."

I just found and removed the most satisfying split end. I had to show it to Danielle it was so split.

Last night found me witness to an interesting mix of the mundane and the thrilling.

Want to Do List

Aquarobics
Basic Pole Dancing
Juggling
Lecture on Pedagogy in Mexico
7 Poets on Theme of Seven
Magic Garden Mosaic Lecture

Urban Roots
Swing in the Park 9-12am
Kelly Writer's House
Spring Fling

Drawing Comics
Puppets Lecture
Global Education Lecture
Puppets as Avatar
Speakeasy

Belle Epoque
Outdoor's Club
Rose is a Rose on Queen Joesephine
Banquet
Salsa 9-2am

Dissent in America lecture
Gallery Night
Gattaca Screening
StorySlam
Cover Artist lecture

Operation Sing
Leftover Extravaganza
Alumni Band
New Music Symposium/Discussion
Book Fair
Alumni Weekend

Music for Marriage Equality
Socialism Discussion
Rise of the Right
Musical Artists

Sometimes, it's all I can think of, eating a Klondike bar outside that window.
there's a little conflict

White Bitches

Today, on the way to Urban Roots, some guy holla'd at me, Gab, and the new girls, "'Ey, white bitches!" in a generally positive manner. "Did he just yell 'white bitches' at us?" Upon catching up to him at the stop light, he reiterated his derogatory call, "Yeeehea, white bitches! I ain't never seen white bitches around here."

Represent.

More Life, More Love

I'm more or less an unstoppable force.

Beautiful day. Took a risk in not wearing a coat and won big. I'm supposed to have class 9-4 with forty minute breaks 10-10:40 and 1:10-1:50. During the first break, I found that the breakfast meal limit had been bumped $0.40, making a bagel with lox only $.09 more expensive than my meal. Dropped off the tax form request from the $100 scholarship I won through the "Grit & Beauty" contest. Bam. Next class. It ends forty minutes early, so I chat it up with Gab in Anderson about future PJ days and swing dancing in the park until midnight. Class. Lunch. Much laughter with Gab, Kira, and Sam. Ad class wasn't entirely unbearable, as I got 5/5 extra credit problems right without reading the chapter. Nature of Crime also won bonus points as super group, and class ended early once more. I glocked out on the beach with m'cool musician friends, banjo, 12 string guitar, glock, and acoustic in tow. Ben and I got ice cream barefoot. I bothered Andrew and other friends on the beach. Realized it was almost 5. Ran barefoot back to the dorm. Aqua-robics with Gab and Kira. Dinner. Talked to Perry. *swooned* Met Emily's boyfriend after recognizing him from Facebook. Totally cried reading xkcd, but just a little bit. Got mail. Once again acknowledged having the best friends.

Weekend Update

Friday:
As it was April Fool's and my professor was late, my Creative Acts class brought all of our desks into the hallway and finished class as a fire hazard. At night, Jon got us in a prank that threatened the outing but ended with dancing at "the Mad House" in Gab's super adorable dress. It was a lil' bit sleazy, but so was I with my dancing. The night ended with Jon saving me after Kira and Sam exchanged shouts, "You tell him she's your girlfriend." "No, you do it!" We ate Maxi's in 7-11 while discussing the perfect humor of arrested development, table-top board RPG board games, LARPing, and "ice coold coke."

Saturday:
Woke up at 8 to meet Amanda at 8:30. Together with Ti, we ventured to meet Engineers Without Borders, whose president, Poloma, was exceptionally interesting. Our little band walked up to the (unbelievable) Village of Arts and Humanities for their project day. We weeded, spread compost, transplanted hateful, evil bulbs, danced to a performance of Philly Bloco, had a little BBQ, and I stayed a little after with a Drexel poetry student who gave me his business card at the end, saying, "...if you ever need anything in University City." His business card was for cemetery services. The Village is at ~10th and Cumberland, so my solo walk home was graced with the phrase, "How you doing, white chocolate?" And I was doing fantastically. At night, Katy and I got ready with the ladies. She made me a dream journal. It's the most adorable thing, but I didn't remember my dreams last night. At the party, we wandered around. I absolutely loved Killer Whale. Their niche is GameBoy electronica of Katy Perry-esque pop songs, some rap, with the ever talented Bobby on vocals for every song. His performance name for the night was "DJ Glitterbomb," and boy, did I get glitter bombed. My whole chest and shoulders were covered in pink glitter thanks to an anonymous audience member. Yes, there were hipsters. Yes, I did get moshed into a corner during Fat Lip. Yes, they did in fact crowd surf a person in a basement not more than a foot and a half off my head.

Sunday:
Woke up at 10 to get ready. Kevin texted me that he cannot reach Jake and friends. That means Jake and friends aren't up and it's already 11:20 with a planned ETA at Rittenhouse of 12:00. I wake them up. I heckle them into readiness. Kevin brings over a garbage bag full of toast. I pay for their subway tokens, and we're off. So, me and the five gentlemen meet up with Viv in the park on this splendidly beautiful day to give free hugs. It stole my heart. I have hugs to children and puppies and adults and a man older than the moon. We were hugging simultaneous to Lindy Hoppers dancing, so they taught me the basic moves. Back step. Triple step. Triple Step. Back Step. There was possibly a smile on my face the whole time. The boys grouped together to form a roving hug pod. I loved it. We walked from there to the art museum. Kevin and I were a little dismayed to find it wasn't quite their cup of tea, but maybe it's for the best they don't participate in the consumerization of art.

So Vandalous

Through the day I murmur and shout that I am blessed, my holy godless mantra.

I am overly emphatic about that. Last night, even more so. A haze of love and perfect understanding overwhelmed me. Danielle was finally recognized as everything perfect that I adore and am not. She works in a socialist summer camp. She is going to be an elementary school teacher. She is perfectly, wonderfully odd. Even her features and mannerisms convey a knowing in ways I cannot. I was blessed for having Jess that I should wind up with her in the long run. For the first time in a long time, we sat with Tina in her room. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was on, the end, when Charlie finds out what happened to the boy who got everything he ever dreamt of. I felt like that boy too. Tina shared that while she's the skinniest she's been in her life, she's still scared that Jesse will drop her when he goes to pick her up. It was such a normal, specific fear that I'd never thought of, one indicative of the past and society's ideals. It is such a depth of character fear, including the guilt she felt in not being confident. In those moments of listening, I felt utterly blessed to be surrounded by such strong and beautiful women. I was gleefully happy, which amused Tina greatly.

Later, I felt weird about having been so emphatic and childish about my love that day. It was a pure and innocent disappointment, though, like I'd been excited to draw a smiley face in window's condensation, only to realize the condensation was on the other side and feeling crestfallen dumb.



At Outdoor's club today, the guys were apologetic for leaving me behind on Tuesday's midnight pretzel run. They hadn't realized it was a legitimate hipster race from the art museum and felt guilty about leaving behind "the lil' girl." Each of them had approached me individually to make sure I got home okay, but now it's makes for a fabulous story. It got an enthralled audience from the club members who hadn't heard.

Philly Pretzel Run

I can remember the last time I gut wrenchingly stomach quakingly sobbed and choked on my bedroom floor, but not the last time I felt tender and careless romance.

Pitt Parties

I went to Pitt and met Gab's internationally traveled professor grandparents, Bubbi and Zadie. I smoked hookah and in a public park. I found Hogwarts branded by the Carnegie name and knitted through a conversation about our impossible future together as "the lesbian aunts." I slept well and dreamt. I met people and made friends and wished for a return a different sort of pit party.

She Prose to the Occasion

I'd like to try this, but as a wall paper, each part telling a story or capturing a memory or picture.

I haven't appreciated my Christmas or written poetry in so long. There's this notion of the home is where is the heart is and your roving heart and heart as self, but I can't quite put it into the perfect words yet. Another notion is sex and sexuality. I can't pin down my thoughts anymore, what it means to be female and love men and have biological, instinctual needs and realizing that my deep appreciation for the human body is merely an appreciation for the bodies that house beautiful minds.

For everything I do, it's not enough.

I feel at ease with most kids. I never realized.

Sore Feels Good

This weekend saw me backpacking twenty-two miles of the Appalachian trail, sixteen of those in a single day. Upon arriving, kids walked around in t-shirts it was so warm an evening. The campfire was more for aesthetics than practical purpose. Greg scared We made Jiffy Pop. We played Never Have I Ever. We went to a 7-11 in Maryland and got communal beer. Ah, the great outdoors. Sleeping conditions were unpleasant. The first night, I sprawled out on a hill with Sara and Ti. In the morning, we woke up to find ourselves sprawled slightly farther down that hill and also on rocks. However, excitement for the morning cheered our souls, as did the vision of everyone sitting up with their faces popped out of sleeping bags like tube worms. It was a long day, but a thoughtful one. There's this rhythm of avoiding rocks and thoughtless movement. Thoughts were being processed, but not individually examined. I ran through my life plans, and where I find meaning in my activities. I feel less sure of my self, but better about that place. Arriving at our final shelter for the night was some sweet elation. As ladies out numbered guys nearly two-to-one, it was a proud moment that five of us had reached the summit first. Unfortunately, a pack of Boy Scouts ran like madmen to beat us to the shelter. Fortunately, we have more balls than them, and intended to sleep out in the open anyway. Darkness was longed for as an excuse for sleep, but it was not meant for that. Our newly constructed fire pit heard campfire songs for at least an hour. We did not sing exclusively traditional campfire songs. After running out of camp tunes, we included such hits as "Bed Intruder Song" and "Verdi Requiem" (as two of our members were in the orchestral choir). Sleeping was again, unpleasant, but the morning held promise of conclusion. Hiking three miles down the mountain, trodding tender, we reached a near Shangri-La, a four mile flat trail that followed the Shenandoah River. It was gorgeous. The very last leg of the journey took us across the river on an old rail trestle. I napped the whole way home and am sore. Also, I got pinkeye.

Fun Fact: I wore my sports bra straight through 8:30 Friday morning until 5:10 Sunday evening. I was a little noxious at the end of the trip, though the group unanimously confirmed that statement for themselves.

The first guy to ever say "guesstimate" must have felt so cool until he realized the horrible monster he unleashed upon the world.

The Eventual Job

Today during gardening, Becca made me realize that I could one day have a job that I love. It would be similar to my current life, except that I get paid for being so active and involved. Weird.

Going Away to College

I'm obsessively reading through the wikitravel article on Rome. The descriptions of night life include details on the dance floors of every bar and pub near Termini Station. It's almost like I can feel the summer air on exposed shoulders. However, it still has the sensation of irreality. My mind cannot create a believable projection of this exciting future. I will actually really be flying to Rome in two months, five days. I will actually really be spending my early summer in Italy. It's the expectation that I sought for college, except a little more alienating. I'd been to Philadelphia before. I'd even seen Temple before. It'll be a much lonelier experience for the first few days.

The King of Kings

...one Elvis impersonator to rule them all.

I like the old songs where your pretense is adorable for its innocence.

I'm pretty and going to Italy and PMSing and interesting and good with strangers and sometimes a little shy but otherwise really loud and I smile a lot and I know some things and I know there's a lot more to know and that I'm young and that I haven't done anything relative to what I can and there's so much I don't know about myself for being so assured of who I am and want to be and if it came down to flight vs. invisibility I'd fly and if it came down to going or staying in I'd go and that's why I have to leave and I try something normal and let go and let go and let go and, and, grow, because that's the most important. But it still sucks sometimes, 'cuz this time it's real.


I wonder how many inside jokes Randall Munroe has referenced in order to make his friends feel special that he specifically alluded to them in his internationally read comic.

Brain Boops

I can't ever be thankful enough for the people in my life.

There's not enough time for books.

Cuddling goes into serious decline when I'm at Temple.

There are a lot of unnecessary adornments on my desk.

Gifts given to me the past few years have become retrospectively more valuable.

Every time I look at something I like, I think, "I could make that. Not paying money."

"Babies! Babiesbabiesbabies! Babies!!! NO babies."

I'm grateful that my writing class forces me to write.

There are many candles in my room and only the oven to light them.

I learned to knit! I knitted!

Currently, I am very very far from self-supporting, but ever closer to self-sustaining.

A State Patty's Day Story

I was grateful to catch a ride with Bubba up to PSU this weekend. All the return bus tickets for less than $20 had been booked two weeks ago, and it was mostly by chance that I wound up going. We left Friday night after classes and picking up Alexis. Besides early navigational troubles, the ride up went smoothly, with a solid hour or so of belting Lady Gaga and Katy Perry at the end. Initially, the plan was to play "My Cows" for the duration, but a very solid darkness allowed for only one cow spotting, and even that one was under investigation. It was promptly drowned.

Hortense's birthday party was buckets of fun and the whitest party I'd ever been to. After leaving around 12, we wandered over to the McDonald's on College Ave. for the greatest drunk watching experience of my life. At 12:30 am, the place was mobbed with both staffers and students. The ordering system is the most efficient thing I've ever seen, though a number of the too-far-gones are incapable of its navigation. A student orders, a number is written on their receipt, and numbers are constantly shouted out to claim your prize. It was something to behold. Matt saw two cars pulled over for driving the wrong way. What a terrifying celebration.

Saturday afternoon, we got lunch with Matt and his parents, as Jackie was running that day at some level of state finals. It was good to catch up with them, though I'm sure we'll visit again next week on break. We followed up lunch with stencil shenanigans, then I walked over to Lauren's dorm for a surprise Skype date with Kim. Two hours later, Lauren and I met Melissa at the Creamery to induct me into the Penn State ritual. We caught up some and agreed to reunite later for dinner. During the in between, I roughly passed out on Lauren's bed for lack of sleep and woke up in time for food. Melissa has a great group of friends, and dinner made it feel like we were the drunk ones for all of the laughter. Returning to Matt and Jeff, we ventured over to the a capella show for a two and a half hour sing-a-thon. The venturing was part of the fun. Matt's parents send him "silly hats" in his care packages. These hats are exceptionally silly. 6' 4" Matt wore a green top hat that added another 12 inches of height with a beard attached that added at least 12 inches of length. Jeff wore a roasted turkey hat, and I had a spikey rainbow thing courtesy of Haley. Post-a capella, we were heckled all the way down College Ave. until arriving at The Diner, at which point Matt was identified by an intoxicated student as Honest Abe. Nice try. My "dollar per slice" bacon was definitely worth it, and after which we dispersed for bed.

Sunday was generally lazy, catching brunch with Matt and Tarik then heading out. I slept on the ride home, waking up to Bitches Ain't Shit and drowning some muckaluckas cows. It was good.




~I wonder how many inside jokes Randall Munroe has referenced in order to make his friends feel special that he specifically alluded to them in his internationally read comic.

Daze

I've lost track of time. I'm vaguely aware that my time is going to immensely productive things, and that I'm probably having fun because it goes so quickly, but wow. Earlier today, my dad called me about visiting tomorrow, which is tough to schedule in with work and then volunteering from 9-4. I told him that we'd settle details later, and I'd probably give him a call Wednesday night. "Chloe, that's right now." Oh.

Mondays are class 9-4, then juggling at 5:30.
Tuesdays are work, "free time,*" then band and gardening club.
Wednesdays I don't see my dorm from 9-7 for class, volunteering, and socialist meeting.
Thursday is a repeat of Tuesday minus band occasionally plus time at the Shoe, then Outdoor's club and hanging out with Kira and Gab.
Friday is Monday minus juggling, usually plus partying.
**

*"Free time" is generally not time that is free for me, but time that is free to complete all of the other necessities of life that cannot be completed during the rest of the week, such as opening a bank account or having a doctor's appointment or "being advised."
**Pending there are no basketball games I am required to be at.

And I love it. I imagine that a future life will be a little more leisurely. I imagine actually having time to read the Times with orange juice, instead of skimming headlines then finishing my ecology readings. But this is the most incredible life I could be living right now. I get into the city as often as I'd like. I still attend lectures and programs and see friends and hang out and giggle. I've even had two weekday naps so far this semester. I'm learning and doing so much, but it feels like classes are where I'm learning the least (except ecology). It's a wonderful way to be.

I Believe the Hawk Is Dead

Tonight, Temple's Men's Basketball played St. Joe's at home in the Liacouras Center. Their slogan, being the St. Joe's Hawks, is "The Hawk will never die." Accordingly, Temple's Wild Cherry fan section themed tonight, "The Hawk's Funeral." T-shirts were printed up, "RIP: The Hawk." Veils were given out, flowers, tissues. A cardboard coffin was crowd surfed down the student section while priests and nuns and people in suits mourned in the front rows. During the entrance of their team, the entire student section knelt and held their hands in prayer. Finally, once TU's victory was secured, our alum brought about the "I believe" chant to end with "I believe the hawk is dead." We went through three iterations of the cheering and jumping. It was marvelous.

Philthy

Excellence has become much more concentrated in my life, as far as the graphing of excellence over time goes. Philadelphia has opened enormous opportunity for activity. It's impossible to grasp how much I didn't do living the in the 'burbs and the ever growing expanse of things yet to do.

Once springtime becomes semi-permanent, I'll go on a murals tour of Philly. I'll get cheesesteaks from Geno's and Pat's and watch Rocky and visit the Liberty Bell. I'd like to see Viv. My first year here is passing by at an incredible rate. Hopefully, I will spend more of my time in metropolitan areas. Hopefully, I'll be seeing a few more than Philadelphia.

in Heaven, everything is fine

Last night, I went to the hippest house show I've ever been to. Ukulele, mandolin, banjo, harmonica, accordion, pump organ, glockenspiel, acoustic bass, and ocarina were some of the instruments in attendance. There were Ray Bans e'rywhere. Surprisingly, I knew quite a few of the people there. I didn't realize how strong my hipster association was. Advertised as a "candlelight serenade," it lived up to its title. Hosted in a basement with tapestries covering the floor, the entire party sat on the floor during the performance, which was indeed lit by candles and Christmas lights. The first performer, Jill, was friends with nearly everyone I knew, so we had a great first introduction. Her original compositions utilized the uke and mandolin, sweetly adorable songs that set the night. She wrote her own love song from a boy to her, the second about being friend zoned as a female. Giggly cute, that song included the phrase, "I'm not your bro, so when you put your dick in my face, don't expect me not to blow." By the third repetition of that line, the entire basement was singing with her in laughter. Her final song was a collection of nearly everyone I knew at the party singing, "In Heaven, everything is fine..." from the movie Eraserhead. It was beautiful.

The second performer was my friend Abi and her guitar playing friend in their band, Uandi (You-wand-ee). Her voice is some sweet and delicate gospel choir nostalgia. While the guitar went through intricate little rhythms, she sang of love and being really real. It was a very mature performance.

The last duo we stayed through was meh. The lead singer was douchey, and banjo man in the background didn't say much. We sang more of their songs though, so that made up for it.

I realize that these kinds of parties are few and far between. While I can hope that my life will continue to host intimate musical performances, it's not likely to last very much beyond college without significant effort. I don't know where I will go to sing in a group when I am older, especially as I cannot sing very well.

First Day of Work

Thursday marked the first day of my first ever job, and I shouldn't even be getting paid for something so awesome. After a two day training session with Temple, I was certified to enter the Time Out program, where students serve as companions to the elderly while their caretakers take some time for themselves. The gentleman I've been matched with is a real wit, a former boxer and gym teacher. He's a good guy and in great physical shape. From 9-12, I talk to his grandkids, a girl and boy, ages 3 and 1 respectively. Once we're good to go, we walk to nearby activity centers and get our work out on. I burnt 200 calories on the bike my first day.

Walking to work from the subway, I passed a pimp cane in the trash with a gold diamond on top. What luck! I stashed it in an ally during work, then picked it back up leaving. After getting back to Temple, I retrieved my phone with Matt and then checked out the abandoned elementary school. It was the most gorgeous day for February, stupefyingly so. We just wore t-shirts while circling the building, and upon finding an open door, were met with an eerie flow of freezing wind. The sun hadn't even remotely touched the inner halls. We'll go back with a flashlight sometime in the future.

Upset about having to go the basketball game, I was doubly amused to find a.) Kit-Kats can be purchased on the meal plan, and b.) I had a package! Picking it up right before the game, I opened it in the Liacouras Center with smiles. It was a care package from Mrs. G., complete with cookies, gummies, gum, Wawa coupons, granola, fruit pieces, and a leprechaun hat. Of course, I shared the goodies with my band friends, collectively raising spirits as apparently nobody wanted to be at this game. That statement was reversed by the end of the night. Juan's confidence is back with a vengeance, and the ladies went wild. We got some dunks, and remain undefeated in Liacouras, defeating Richmond, with whom we'd been tied for something. Katy and I walked back to our hall afterward, where I finished a project then hurried over to Gab and Kira's for another lovely night. Sam showed up after some time, and we ventured down to J&H for fourth meal. It was a wonderful time.

Harrisburg Protest

Tuesday morning saw me rise with the sun for a protest in Harrisburg. Students from four Pennsylvanian colleges gathered to fight recent austerity cuts that threaten state funding for higher education. With those cuts comes an inevitable tuition hike, as much available to be cut was already in previous years. The school buses left at 8, but not actually. Fortunately, the media turned out to support our cause. Unfortunately, no students did. Of the approximately 300 signed up to attend, ~65 did, including our entire student government. At least the ride was fun. Jacob and Abi turned out, both aspiring photojournalists. They're both politically aware and ideologically opinionated, so a beautiful conversation began from their meeting. I did manage to get some reading of The Botany of Desire in, so I was much satisfied by the transportation experience.

I'd never realized from my times there with HiQ that Harrisburg is kinda more town than city. Yes, it has skyscrapers, but maybe two unimpressive ones. The capitol building remains a lovely building, and the February weather was slightly more bearable than expected. Sadly, there was little actual protesting. Students from Temple, PSU, Temple, and Lincoln were gathered on the rotunda staircase as a backdrop to our student speakers. Some were excellent. Original poetry was read and our homecoming king gave an impassioned speech. Give him a cause to speak on, and I would follow. Most others were forgettable or unintelligible from my location. The only moment of group solidarity was during the Temple Gospel Choir. They sang Lean On Me, and the entire student body began swaying and singing together. It was almost like an honest to goodness ole' fashioned protest movement. Afterward, Temple and Lincoln students gathered in a circle for a step off. We lost by a lot. It was still a great exchange.

Our bus ride back had much more exaggerated stories from a few seats up, but quiet reflection for us sleepyheads. Jacob even managed a nap.

Share!

"My collective frustrations burst forth from my tiny body like bees from a nest that had just been pelted with a rock."
-Hyperbole and a Half (highly recommended)

Of the three parties I've been to this semester, multiple people shouted my name when they saw I'd arrived. Even at last night's "80s Frat Party," I stumbled upon a sizable number of band kids excited to see me in the mess. Danielle had the biggest hair I'd ever seen. Her ponytail was bigger than my head. Then I saw Gab, another one with huge hair. Her and Kira matched for the second party in a row. They're so cute. As expected, it was hot and gross and gropey. I never thought I'd be grateful to find ceiling pipes leaking on me. The live band absolutely made the night. We would've left after 20 minutes if they hadn't been playing dancy 80s rock (and some Beastie Boys?). Bein' my dancy-self, I got all danced up on, which I don't mind for one or two songs. I was making funny faces at Gab for one guy, but apparently he was cute. Oh well, not tryna take home guys at a frat party, or any party, really. Inebriation is a major turn-off. T-Pat picked me up when he drunkenly hugged me and offered beer, but he surprisingly left when I said I didn't drink. Strange... We left after the band finished around 12:15, walking arm in arm with Gab to help her toddle across the ice. Tim, upset that Katy was holding hands with Glenn, decided to be straight and honest with me. "We talked the first day, when you were introducing yourself and everyone and you said you used to be in pit but now were doing cymbals, and I haven't talk to you at all since that, which is a shame, since you were nice and I was really shy and now you have lots of friends, so I guess it worked out for you."