They just don't get any better than this.

"I know women are crazy. You, however, have reached a new level of crazy called insane and fickle."

Oh my.

HITTIN' THE BOOKS, SUCKAS.

I try not to publicize this blog so often but I feel like perhaps I should. This is my "Plz can I haz home now?" face. I am so ready to go home.

Finals are going to be the death of me.
I have to pack and move.
I am way in over my head with everything.

This weekend was pretty bizarre. Went to the PB Holiday Party which was super awkward and super weird in some girl's random warehouse-turned-apartment. I've come to the realization that there is just no reason to live like that. I mean seriously. You live in an awkwardly designed apartment with makeshift bedrooms. I know we all do what we can, but my parents would never pay for that shit. Never.

Went to a Moving Mountains show at Death By Audio. Again, let me reiterate my extreme disdain for Warehouses turned into anything other than Warehouses. This place had the strangest ambiance I've ever felt in a room, and the extreme pretension that resonated within its walls was startling. I thought I missed local shows. The bands were alright but really, I don't know how I dealt with any of that as a kid. I guess it was more of the friend aspect. Saw Stephen, Liz, A-Kane, and natch, the boys of MM. It was a good time with old friends, and a good break from the people I see all the time at NYU. Certainly not something I would feel the need to do every day, or every weekend for that matter.

I feel very frustrated within my circle of friends and I think that that is probably just because I am going to move in with my best friend out of any of them, and that has me nervous only because I feel like I'm ostracizing myself from everyone else. I also miss Adrienne more than the world can ever know, and it hurts me that she had to choose the sorority over me, but I know that it is a better environment for her. I just wish everything could have worked out differently.

I haven't had a cigarette in 10 days. A+ for that. I'm really into this Israeli and it's killing me. I don't like thinking about someone else so much. I guess I secretly do want to stay single, even though I bitch about my dates and etc. so frequently. Who knows. He could be a nice change of pace.

I can't wait to go home. I miss my babies.

Frustrated.

When I said don't fuck with me, I meant it.
Who the fuck takes over 12 hours to respond to a message?

You're lucky you're foreign.



You are so lucky.
Now go back to the land of milk and honey.

Quit, bitch.

I'm trying to quit smoking again.
Today is day 7.
Today is day "I cannot understand why I ever started smoking in the first place and why no one stopped me and Jesus Christ, what am I supposed to do if I can't quit?"

Today I ran for 10 minutes and barely got anywhere. This shit better work.

Decisions, Decisions.

I think I'll be an English major. Yes? Yes. Yes? Maybe...

I decided I want to get my Ph.D. in English Literature, so that I can teach books for the rest of my life and essentially be Karen Karbiener. Who is this woman, you ask? Well. She is my idol down to her skinny black boots and her sleeveless shell dresses. I think life would be pretty fantastic if I ended up like her.

Brit Lit and Lit Int here I come!

Bliss.

I'm so excited but so scared at the same time.
How do I tell her I'm leaving?
How do I tell her it's not her fault but kind of is her fault but that even if she tried harder it wouldn't have changed a thing?

The truth is, I never wanted to like her. I just felt like I needed to, and I'm not used to someone not naturally becoming a friend when they are in such close proximity.

I shouldn't be so concerned.

Bridges.

Obviously, I've always known that Manhattan is an island, but when you're in the heart of it, you forget so easily that it's surrounded by water and these fantastic, gorgeous bridges that you only see if you're on either the coast, or like me, at the tip.

On the bus ride to school, which sounds ridiculous because in college you shouldn't need a bus, I see three bridges. From my apartment window, I see my favorite bridge in all of the United States, possibly the world, but I'll know that better once I go to Prague.

It's cliché to think like this, but I find bridges to be so powerfully beautiful, so magnificent. The idea behind a bridge is equally clichéd, simply because most people use the phrase "burning bridges." Why burn a bridge? They're wonderful. You'll never get across otherwise. There's no reason to forget everything. Because if you don't look at that bridge, you'll never remember where you were before.

Warehouses

I don't know who decided to start having massive ragers in warehouses, but whoever it was must have been a pretty cool guy. We start the night by an overwhelming concern of being lost in an area of Brooklyn where most of us have never been. For a bit, things look pretty nice, like a little bit of the suburbs more closely built up, and the hideous presence of the BQE. We end up in what seems to have been a previously industrialized area that has died down since industry has pretty much vacated the five boroughs. Obviously we know the way.

Enter stage two, dancing on a stage after a couple beers and after having several more, someone ends up on a table. Running into people I know via 6 degrees of separation, I am slowly finding myself overwhelmingly intoxicated, knowing in the back of my head it will soon be time to leave. Dancing, feeling good about the current situation and the people I'm with, I see Paulie Bleecker. We kiss and he tells me his name is Ricky - a "pre-med student like everyone else living on the coolest floor in Lafayette" - but that I can call him Michael. As in Michael Cera. As in, if I were sober, I would have laughed and walked away, but being drunk and thinking this guy actually looks like Michael Cera, I go with it.

I woke up still drunk and somehow managed to make bracelets for four hours with 5 year olds. I amaze myself.

At least I stayed sober for the better half of yesterday.

Photographs

It's still so wild to me that so much time has passed. I looked at some old photos from two summers ago and it's hard to believe that I am here, a sophomore in college, trying to figure out my major and what I am going to do with the rest of my life. That summer holds so many of my favorite memories. I look at old photos of me, Ava, and Valerie, and my heart just swells and it's such a beautiful emotion I can hardly describe it. My babies.

I can't believe it's almost Halloween. It was just September. I can't believe I voted. I can't believe that this time next year, if all goes as planned, I will be living in Europe. I don't know what will happen when I graduate and leave Alexis, Kyle, Chris, or Amanda. I don't even want to go home for Christmas.

Growing up is getting harder. Can't I go back to last year?

Drunk?

I always surprise myself when I'm drunk. This time was a real kicker. Walking towards the Bedford Ave station in Brooklyn, going to a party I had no business going to, going to an apartment I really didn't need to go to - except for the possibility of coke, which I didn't really want anyway - I make a phone call that I still can't determine to be wise or not. I am unsure of why I called Cory in my drunken stupor in the process of getting onto the subway. I invite him over.

"You're a coward and a fluzy. I wonder how straight your spine really is. Call me when you're ready to pull your shit together." He shows up, tells me I'm not date-able, but that my motivation and hard working skills are extremely sexy. Hi, I'm an extremely unmotivated, crazed out of my face, 22 year old still getting a B.A., and that means I'm interested in girls who work hard and are essentially the "antithesis" of myself. You have to be joking me.

Something about Cory always proves to be so overwhelmingly sincere that I can't help but open my door to him and let him lay next to me. After he calls me spineless a few more times and I tell him he's pathetic, he asks me the last time I got laid. I describe everything for him and he's in shock. In shock at how pathetic my sex life is and was and how pathetic I am for not allowing myself to have a sex life for fear that sex will never be enjoyable ever again. But I'm a respectable girl, which makes me more attractive, so he wouldn't pressure me. So I went to sleep.

We'll see if I get any more calls after that.

I'm jealous about Kyle's sexcapades. That's not a good sign.

My dreams are really out of control.

This is ridiculous. For months you haunted my dreams, and then it stopped for months, now it starts again, and now I'm dreaming about him and you and this is all too strange, too bizarre.

As Amanda put it: "You're dreaming about two things that comfort you, or one that comforted you in the past and now is being replaced by the other."

But, I really don't want to think about him like that. It's not fair. No more.

I've been feeling inspired lately. I think I might start carrying my notebook again and write. I still want to be the Poet Laureate.

Right.

Anorexia.

What gives? How do you fucking people do it?

French Toast.

Kyle likes to tell me I look domesticated. I am trying to learn to cook, clean, bake, etc. so that one day, I can be a trophy wife on the Upper East Side. I'm not kidding. I'll find my future husband one of these days while running in the financial district.

Mary Kate.

We have known each other for nearly 12 years, and sometimes I wonder just how much of our friendship is because we actually have things in common and how much of it is because of longevity.

I adore Mary Kate and love her with a very sisterly love. However, I still know the jealousies I've had of her my entire life and continue to have to this day. She is so much freer than I am, than I'll ever be for that matter, and I envy her for this. I envy her for her supportive parents and for all of the things she's been able to do in life because of financial privilege.

Recently her boyfriend of two/three years broke up with her. I can say honestly that one truly beautiful thing came out of my break up with Charlie: I am able to sympathize and offer really genuine support for Mary Kate in her given situation. I told her to get back to Mary Kate, to get back to who she is and remember that she is not Mary Kate plus one, but that she is independent, etc. Pretty much, all of those things you need to hear when you've been dumped but not everyone gets to hear. Sometimes I get jealous of all of my friends because I'm able to give them some sort of hope for their hard break ups, when in truth, no one could really give me anything last August. I'm glad I had to do it alone. Hearing how distraught she was over Alec reminded me of myself and proved to me just how different Mary Kate and I really are. She's a party girl, all about the "moment" and going with the flow. I don't know when or how it happened, but I am so conservative in my behavior that I find it slightly overwhelming and at times, nauseating.

I suppose I'm jealous of Mary Kate mainly because she has me. And I don't have too many friends that would be brave enough as I am to stick up to someone and tell them the truth. Too many people walk on eggshells around me. I don't understand it. She told me that for the past year or so, she's only had me and Alec, but I'm usually busy, etc. That was really painful to hear. I never just had Charlie or Mary Kate. I always had other options. Charlie was usually the option I chose, but I never forgot that I had others there. It breaks my heart to think that someone could ever just have two people. That's not the kind of life anyone should ever have to lead.

I think it's time I found someone and stopped playing therapist and giving others advice when I don't have my own life to live.

So Ashamed.

I really hope you didn't see what happened last night. But even if you did, you stayed with me. So I have to assume you didn't know anything was wrong.

I feel like a five year old.

Returning.

Coming back could have been a little bit more seamless, a little less stressful, and a little more exhilarating. My apartment is gorgeous. I am in love with it and am in love with the potential memories I can make here. I've been trying to teach myself how to cook. We'll see how well that goes. At least I can bake brownies. 

I find myself in an uncomfortable place with my group of friends. Some of them can be such children and behave just like jealous, catty siblings. I know that Kyle and I became closer last semester, though I wouldn't say we are closer than he is with anyone else, I know that I am closest with him out of all of my friends. Someone made a comment that suggested he and I would end up together by the end of the year. Naturally, I found it to be one of those immature comments that girls make because they find my relationships with men are never void of sexual tension. Regardless, this is the issue with the boy-girl best friend dynamic. Someone always falls in love. Someone always gets attached. So if it's not Kyle, maybe it will be me.

I'm feeling inspired. I think I'll start writing again. As Ava said it best, this is going to be my year. I don't know what she meant entirely, but I think things are going to come full circle. I just have to learn to stop reading into things. 

Alex accused me of being too "emotionally involved." I don't think guys understand that most women just want a clear end to things. As a result, I called him incessantly waiting for him to tell me it was over. He never said it. He just called me rude. I love stubborn men.

Growing Up.

Never in my life did I imagine that I would get along with my mother, let alone develop a stronger relationship with her. Life is funny like that. I realized that living away from my family gave me a greater understanding of them - meaning that I understand that some things will remain the same, not that I understand why things are that way. A year ago I was certain that my mother and I would be estranged one day, that I would send Christmas cards and Chanci gifts every year and stop speaking with her and her side of the family. This might be true about her family. I can't say it will be true for her.

I think this summer I've gained a fair amount of patience, not only with my family, but with most aspects of life. Working with TJ has been a truly wonderful experience. As cheesy as it sounds, he is such a special little boy, so bright and full of energy that he's almost been inspiring to me. When I told his mother when I was leaving , I felt my heart sink. He and I have such a strong connection that I can't imagine what it will be like saying goodbye. It's funny - every child reacts differently to my leaving. Isabella was excited to see me again, but she wasn't angry that I left her. Kenny and Vanessa asked me where I was going and why; Kenny still always wants me to stay. I hope that TJ handles it well, because I know I'll be hurt. I hated leaving Isabella, leaving TJ, who I spend so much one on one time with, is going to be so painful.

Everyone always calls me mom, or mama, or something. For a long time I thought I'd never want children. I thought having kids would mean ruining my life and that it would be so much easier to just let my sister have kids and I'd be the wonderful aunt who spoiled them. If I was given the option to drop out of college and start having children now, and especially if the offer was good enough, I don't know that I'd be able to refuse. I was tearing when I told my father that I didn't want to leave the kids; he started tearing because he could only tell me that one day I'd be a really great mom. I didn't think my dad would ever say something like that to me so early, but I suppose it was the reassurance I really needed; I needed to be reminded that I am separate from my parents and that their errors will only give me greater success.

I still struggle in making serious decisions, and am still uncertain of where I am supposed to be in my life. I was talking with my aunt and asked her whether there were any memories from my childhood that I should actually remember. Everything, and I mean everything, is so blurred that I can't help but feel like I blocked it from memory. She told me there are certain things she hopes I'll remember one day, because they have clearly impacted me so strongly, in terms of my judgement and overall character, but that there are others I can do without. Sometimes I question how many of these demons Brittany remembers and fights on a daily basis. The number must be higher than mine. She's a lot less stable than I am, regardless of what she says.

I think these past few months have solidified my relationship with Ava and Valerie. Their friendships are so incredibly special to me, and I've never felt this degree of closeness with either of them. It's so comforting to know that I can come home to them, and even miss them. When you leave, you learn quickly who your friends are.

I move back to New York in just over two weeks. I feel myself growing up and it scares the life out of me. I have a credit card. In my name. I don't get it. Where does the time go?

Running.

I tell people I'm training for a marathon. I'm telling you that to excuse my ridiculous exercise habits that seem to result in nothing more than my being out of breath. I don't look any better than I ever have, I don't feel that much better, I still can't really run a mile without wanting to die or needing a lap to catch my breath, and you still can't see my collar bones.

When all else fails, diagnose yourself with a problematic thyroid gland - this way you can excuse the fact that you work out like a fucking maniac and see nothing.

Went to a party at a church-turned-home. I told the kid whose house it was that his roof might fall down if I walked inside. He told me the people who lived there before him were Jews. The roof didn't cave. Drove home from Mount Kisco high and slightly buzzed. Spoke to Mclean the whole way home but couldn't tell you what we talked about or how I made it to Heathers, or home for that matter.

My life is sounds like a bad teen soap opera.

Ridiculous.

Fabulous. I'll embrace the crash for a short period; you're not welcome after tonight.

I cannot handle these dreams or the lack of fiscal responsibility both of my parents display. Please find yourselves financial advisers so that I may be less stressed and in need of less anti-anxiety medication. Also, please note: this was your decision. I can pay for it myself. I just can't do it at the last minute.

On a side note: when discussing having children, it might be best to explain that you are just kidding. Otherwise, like me, you may get caught in a strange conversation about marriage that makes you a little uncomfortable. However, you might be like me and actually think getting married and raising a family is exactly what you want to do right now. I think the idea is brilliant.

I'm losing my mind. I need to quit one of my jobs or pick up one of my bad habits that I've just dropped.

Nineteen.

My birthday was yesterday. I am nineteen; such an uneventful and relatively meaningless age. The only thing it signifies to me is it being the last year of my teenage years, which means basically that next year I'll need to grow up and become an adult. I suppose the most adult thing I've done this month has been getting a credit card. Over-consumption of alcohol is hardly adult.

I spent the day beach-ing with Heather and Brian, and realized why I never go to the beach, let alone swim. I really can't swim. I'm really afraid of the water. It's quite pathetic. I just like to get wet and go lay in the sun and sleep. I had a really great nap, either way. Spent the rest of the night with Heather, Pete, and Ava. Just a really beautiful birthday filled with sun, relaxation, and really fabulous people. (I couldn't thank them enough.)

The situation with Alex is developing, though I do worry that it may turn around and bite me in the ass. I can't help but feel like the reason I'm starting to get really into it is because he's one of the first guys I've been intimate with since my ex. Which can mean one of two things: having been deprived of sex has turned my mind into thinking that any type of physical interaction automatically leads to falling in love, or that I actually do like him. I think it may be the latter. I find him completely charming, despite how cocky he is. The whole thing has me nervous.

On a side note, I'm currently watching some of my friends' lives turn to shit while mine is going rather smoothly... I'm anticipating the crash.

Ironic.

"Don't worry, passive aggression is hot."
"I thought it was cute when you said you don't chase."

Oh Alex, if you knew how ironic and applicable that statement is to my life, you may have withheld from saying that. Regardless, I find myself in an interesting predicament. I don't know if I'm willing to see him once a week, at a party, while the two of us are ridiculously trashed, when I can see Cory, probably more easily and consistently. Why don't I have this problem at school, and moreover, why do guys from my past always come back to me? I could always let my guard down and allow myself to enjoy the two of them for a while, but those sort of things never work out well. Then again, I am indefinitely counting my chickens before they hatch.

There are fireworks going off across the river. Happy Birthday and Happy Independence.

Mildly Entertaining.

The things I hear from guys when making out are sometimes too ridiculous to keep to myself.

"So this is what girls from Westchester are like."
"Wow, you are crazy."
"Hey, why'd you do that?"
"If you give me a wildly passionate kiss, I'll consider giving you your shirt back."
"I just want to dry hump."

I will never understand the urge to make comments about how girls from a specific location are. How silly.

i hate that you're living my dream.
or rather, that i can't afford to do so.

flashbacks.

Looking at Jesse reminds me of all the times at Oasis and my freshman/sophomore years in high school. He has changed so much, really just as a result of growing up. He isn't the scrawny soccer player anymore, now he's got these ridiculously solid arms. Surprises me every time. We go to Joelle's and I'm only planning to stay for a short period of time. I see her and immediately we start talking about the past, about Joel, Dan, Oasis as per usual, Bill, drinking, and basically gossiping about how everyone's lives had turned out. Being there 20 minutes, Dan calls. Then Joel calls.

When Joel shows up I find myself in a very unnerved state. The four of us have our history, and having just heard all the stories about Joel and Joelle's lives, I look at him and see sheer discomfort. What are you doing here, what are we doing here, and how is this okay? He wasn't ok. I knew she lied. Seeing him in that state, as drunk and frustrated, and completely uncomfortable being in that environment, brought back all the years of my being frustrated with whatever girlfriends he had, because they all made him this way. Insane women love him. I couldn't believe that these were people I spent a lot of time with.

I don't understand my relationship with guys like this. I hate their girlfriends for mistreating them, but I never would go as far as to say that it's because I want a relationship with them. It may just be the fact that I enjoy taking care of other people. Or maybe I'm just ridiculous.

livejournal.

I looked at our old livejournals today. It nearly broke my heart and I felt the most overwhelming nostalgia for my junior year. I don't miss high school, but I miss what it felt like.

My stepfather pointed out that it was my decision to take the next step and that sometimes the next step means realizing that you can never go back to what it was like before. I didn't want to admit he was right then. I think I have to now.

What's funny is the things that I miss and think about now, and when they come late at night when I'm disturbed from sleep and forced to wake up because of these dreams I keep having. For the most part, they're sillier events, and things that I would've normally not thought about, but other people bring up, most likely because of their silliness. Or, times where I wouldn't have felt any sort of jealousy. I remember certain choices I'd made, friends, moments, etc. I have changed so much since then. (and for the record, I think she was right.)

As cliché as it sounds, it hits hardest when I can't sleep.

home.

I have been home about a month now. It's a surreal feeling. I'm not aching to get back to New York, more so to leave my house, as I did at the end of winter break. I am enjoying the relaxation and time spent outside of the city, though I am there once a week.

I forget how truly wonderful and absolutely beautiful my friends are at home. Heather finally came home, and though our relationship has been rather erratic and relatively rocky for quite some time, I was overwhelmingly excited to see her. She has become the Heather I always thought she was, and having her home is comforting. I was shocked at just how much I was looking forward to her return. I was most excited for her out of anyone else, most likely because she was one of few who always made a really conscious effort to see me every break we had. Not that it's imperative that everyone do that; just that it was so incredibly sweet that she did.

Valerie made a comment about her relationships this summer, saying that she was too busy to start something new. I feel forced to agree with her. I feel a sense of comfort coming home and meeting new people who want to get to know me; it's flattering. I just don't have time for some of them, or just don't feel the need to make the time for them, especially not when I am still fascinated by older acquaintances. I shouldn't be as dismissive about it, or rather, so pretentious. I'm sure Alex could prove himself to be interesting if I made a point to go through with potential plans. Coming home to see what could happen with Vinny or Nick just made so much more sense; though I still have yet to see one of them. Seeing Vinny is always confusing because I never know what his situation is, and I never know at what point our relationship will change again. I'm not expecting anything, but I don't know if I should.

My face to face therapy sessions have really showed me just how inappropriate my relationship is with my therapist and how complicated the sessions are because of my diction. She thought I had been sleeping with people when I told her about "hook-ups" I had had, and I had to clarify to her that really, it was never sex. Mostly sleep or overwhelming making out, and for some reason, as always, my clothes just come off. I will never understand that; people just really enjoy taking clothes off when there's no real reason for it. Aside from that, she made a point of telling me that I should sleep around more than I do. I was completely and utterly shocked by this, because it seems like it would be much more destructive than anything else.

On another note: Lesportsac bags are not waterproof. If you get caught in Central Park in a thunderstorm, try to save your cell phone by wrapping it in something that may stay dry. And don't bring all your favorite electronics with you if there's a chance of showers.

À bientôt.

i worry that people don't respect me (or themselves) nearly as much as i would hope they did. it's baffling, to say the least. respect me and my home.

i also find that everything comes full circle and that being home means running into people or running from people, particularly those you thought would never find you. i thought you would never find me, that i hid so well, and yet, you managed to do it. now i can't figure out how to hide again and protect myself. i don't know how to respond to all these messages, a day after you manage to contact me. i fight with myself and think i should tell her, that i owe it to her after the past and the things that i did. i hope she finds this and puts two and two together. i can't speak to you.

the offer stood a few years ago. you can't expect to come back and become comfortable. it's not there.

summer in the suburbs means work, work, work.

my first year at nyu.

this entry will be edited multiple times. i will re-read it constantly and i will remember more and more details that i want to include. i do not know what to make of this, typing this all out, though i am allowing myself the privilege of being incoherent.

last night was my last night on the town. i went to a smalltime asian bar in the west village with a bunch of people i don't know and someone i know very well. i received a frightening phone call telling me that my father was in the hospital. immediately i started tearing and it made me realize, this is why i go to school in new york. So that on the given day where I would receive such a phone call I would know I was not too far away. A good friend calmed me down, and convinced me out of making a bigger mess of myself. This is the first time I felt like I could do something without the help of people from home. I didn't need to call the same people I called all the time. I wanted to, but was told I didn't need to. I was proved wrong. I didn't really need to I just wanted to think I needed to.

Today I am sitting in my room and it is completely barren. My art and posters, Ali's men and photos, everything has been taken down. She has been gone since Saturday. I have never missed her so much. My bed is bare to the mattress and it hurts me to look at and think of all the times I spent in that bed. You always forget just how much time you spend sleeping, which is what I've realized I did a good amount of time here doing. I spent the night out of that bed, my first time doing so at college. I hated every second of it. I have an enormous attachment to the place I sleep. Which is why I should probably avoid having sex in a bed unless I plan on buying a new bed every time I start a new relationship. To think of it, that's not a terrible idea. My desk is bare and looking at it, I just think of all the hard work I did here at this same spot, in this chair. I have never felt so accomplished, so incredibly proud of myself for all of my work here. I still cry over the grades I got, in awe of how impressed my professors have been with me, and in even greater awe of the fact that, with the help of a few good proofreaders and my own skill with language, I was able to acquire A's on every single major paper I had written. In the English language of course.

I look out my window and I remember the winter months when it was much easier to see Bobst and see inside the windows of the library I have used twice this year. I remember being able to see the pedestrians walking through Washington Square Park and thinking to myself how fortunate I am to live on the park. It has been beautiful. Falling asleep to jazz musicians or students chatting while walking down the sidewalk. I now have a hard time falling asleep to silence.

I didn't think I'd cry every day when someone else left. I think I could cry more today if I could say goodbye to the few who are left. I couldn't cry over others for fear I'd give myself away, or for the simple fact that I know they would not cry equally. Since Tuesday I have been a mess of tears and stress. My friends, my friends separate from those at home, have left and I am always the last to leave. I suppose that's going to mean something some day. I am the last to leave for every vacation, for every break, with everyone in my life. It sounds ridiculous. I have a feeling I'm supposed to take something from it and embrace it. Or make something of myself so that my leaving last does not hurt nearly as much as it always does when you or someone else leaves.

I will not be able to miss the city the way other kids will. I will never have to. I will be here every week, working at the same internship, for the same two women, for one who I am quite certain appreciates me and for another who seems to be entirely too self-involved. I will take the same subway line and possibly see the same similar faces to enjoy a meal or two with on those days. Life will not necessarily change for me. It will be as it always is. You will all miss the city, you all miss the city always, but I will never have that. I don't know if that's what I want.

The talk of transferring comes up always. I discuss it often and consider it daily. But when I consider it I look around and I wonder if I could truly leave. They say you should experience something you're not familiar with. I'm not all that familiar with living in New York. Sure, I'm not living in Arkansas and watching people drive tractors, or watching people go cow tipping in the midwest, but I think that's because I know there is nothing for me in an experience like that. I need to be somewhere greater, more moving, passionate, loud, boisterous, fabulous, excessive and incredible all at the same time. The city is excessive. But excessive is not always such a terrible thing.

I am nervous to go home to the friendships I didn't care to maintain and to those I know are dangerous to become involved in. Coming home winter break I realized that I had lost a few more friendships than I had counted on, though I maintained a few, and only one that really has true strength. My best friend of longevity will be gone all summer, something I'm used to but am not necessarily pleased with. I feel this weight in my heart and as I sit here waiting for my mother to pick me up, I feel an equal sense of excitement and dread. I don't want to come home for anything or anyone. I don't really want to come home. I want to go back to my life a year ago, when I didn't have these new people to miss or care for.

Goodbye Washington Square.
I'll be seeing you shortly.

two lips tulips

there's something about the way the tulips bend toward you
when you walk past them
they call you and pull you
swaying and leaning with each step you take
their two lips kiss me and i embrace them.

i have decided that now i can honestly say, i think you disgust me.

mon soleil.

le soleil qui couche
il ne sait pas exactement qu'est-ce qu'il fait
quand il dort
il arrêtte la journée

ma journée, mes pensées, mes désirs, mes espoirs,
elles continuent, toujours, sans cesser.
et je reste là,
je me semble heureuse
c'est possible que je sois contente,
je désire ardemment de quitter les grattes-ciels,
de voir les montagnes.

have you done anything life changing?

what could be more life changing
you ask me this
and i look at you
i sleep in a new bed i sleep in a new room i sleep in a new city
you ask me and you don't understand
this isn't about a single experience
my life has changed
routines, patterns, schedules
i sleep in a new fucking bed
i don't take the same steps or the same walks
the river isn't the same here and the sky isn't the same here and those sheets aren't the same
your face is the same
i sleep in a new fucking bed.

fall of (wo)man

you were born by the mountains

and I by the water

i watch your eyes 

and tell you about paradise lost and what it means

how it shapes the opinions of women

i am not eve

i fall far from temptation and am not delivered into evil

i ignore the toad by my ear while i sleep

i keep my mouth closed tight

and burn my tongue while you tell me your feelings on religion

you say eve was not so clever

she was clever enough to not fall alone.

country skies.

i am reminded of all the things i do not have in the urban village

where there are no tree-lined streets

or darkened highways.

my hudson valley

i left you and felt you were not what i wanted

i breathe you as you howl around

i find pegasus and orion and sense of smallness from your peaks and waters.

in a sea of faces i will never find the same pegasus, 

in this sky, she'll always be the same.

the fifth humour.

these faults live in unison

they do not compete 

or bicker or banter.

they fill my veins with all that i am

continuing their way to my feet and my fingertips

causing the whole of me to swell 

this pride this envy this lust this condemning nature

this pride this vanity this shame 

"i listen to the bray of my old heart. i am i am i am."

i am. 

a lesson in poverty.

I spent my weekend at a sort of Catholic center in Camden, NJ this past weekend. Before going, I thought I would simply be staying in this place, not having any real interaction with the people there aside from eating and asking them where to find forks and things of the like. I was sorely mistaken and discovered I was not in Camden to serve those less privileged than I; it seemed that I was actually brought there to learn that the only real way to help save the poor is through Catholicism. If this were true, the poor people who showed up to mass this morning wouldn't need half the services that the government has to provide. 

I knew little about Camden before going there. I knew it was in Jersey and that it was a really terrible neighborhood, especially because everyone in my life told me they hoped I would come home alive. I picked this trip because I wanted to go away for a weekend and do something useful and helpful for someone else. Instead, I was, in a very strange way, being forced to live in the shoes of the people I was helping. The program and the idea behind it are intriguing. You go to Camden to this center and you do service, but while doing the service you are pretending that you are on "welfare" and are only able to eat a certain amount of food. Statistics show that the government provides a family of 4 with an average of $12 per day in foodstamps, etc. So I had about $3 worth of food for me. I ate pb&j and buttered pasta, along with some dry cereal. Being that I was not prepared for any of this and thought I was simply being housed by the Romero center, I was angry and resorted to eating the Kashi bar in my bag. I was starving, getting a headache, and needed to make sure I got out of Philadelphia alive. The system as it stands does not work. Welfare helps people to the extent that it gets food in their stomachs but fails to consider that basic nutrients can not be found in products that would meet a $12 per day budget. This bothered me immensely. 

For my service, which was less than 4 hours long, which frustrated me the most, I worked in a warehouse called Share, a program that puts together low-cost food for the poor or lower classes. I helped organize canned food upon the shelves, as well as assemble boxes of food meant to last a month. The amount of food in these boxes would not last half the people I knew a month, especially not houses with children. Brand names I've never heard of, canned beef, and tomato juice, all supposed to be eaten and last over a month. Simply unrealistic, unheard of, and extremely disheartening. In a country that has so much, it is unfathomable to picture that so many people in the areas of Camden and South Philadelphia have so little. I hoped I would have been able to do more, work for longer hours, or gone to several different work sites. 

I suppose what I realize after coming home is that I am a much smaller person than I originally thought. I do not make a difference for these people or for any of the people that I help in my various community service activities. Perhaps I can brighten a child's day, but that is just one day, and there is no lasting effect. I can pack a box to feed a family for a month but I cannot break their poverty cycle or help them find work or cheaper housing. I cannot rebuild the city of Camden and solve its deep rooted problems, or rid it of the animosity from neighboring towns. I cannot save a prostitute or a drug addict from their self-deprecating lifestyles. I find this heart-wrenching and overwhelmingly distressing. 

My call in life is not to be a Catholic and go on mission trips to learn that God loves the poor and that it is humanity's fault that people mistreat other members of their species. My call in life is to make sure this doesn't happen to me. When I left Camden, I cried. I cried because there was nothing I could do. There was nothing any one person could truly do. No matter how much information is sent out about Camden, or how many students make a trip similar to mine, the problems will still exist and that kills me. To live in the greatest country on earth and see what I would imagine to have seen in a third world country is disheartening. Where are the funds going? Why are their children living on the streets and playing in parks with needles? Why was I sheltered from all of this for so long, locked away in my little suburban town? 

I cannot say I have not felt some of the pains that these people have; worrying about food being on a table, worrying about the electricity being on, worrying about having to move and having to abandon the people I love. 

I suppose what hurts me most is the fact that this can happen to anyone. I just fear it will be me. 

my final sivasana.

you're no good and i'm no better

but i am better

and i released you today as i expelled the air from my ribs

and i pushed you towards the windows and towards that street

how i pushed you! how i expelled you from my ribs!

but i am better!

"i listen to the bray of my old heart. i am i am i am"

i am not allowing all roads to lead to Rome,

because you are that Rome. 

and in my dreams I'm in Prague. 

my dream estate.

they say i'm no good
and you're no better
but you are better,
because you are not me and you are not stuck here in this half eaten body filled with half constructed dreams
and a desire to know everything there is to know about the sun and the moon and the earth
i cannot escape from these fears of half-success and fears of being what i'm most ashamed of

in my dreams i see my house with its gated driveway and i see our four children to whom i've already given names, specifically chosen so that they would apply to both sexes.
and in my dreams i raise our four children and i wear your ring and you leave me time and time again but i always wear your ring.
and in my dreams i sip red wine and there is a maid who comes to clean my house and i die a little with each smile she gives me.
this is not the life i wanted this is not the life i wanted this is not the life i wanted.
but in my dreams this is the only life i can imagine.
because a life without you wouldn't look like this.

bobst and a head cold.

i sit on this bed and stare outside at the strange architecture of that building of grandeur, filled with all of the knowledge i'd ever need for these next four years and i wonder when i will ever make use of that grand building or if i ever will before i die or before i leave this place where i feel nothing but empty confusion and trivial desire.


i'm no good and you're no better and the two of us will allow one another to play these games
you will allow me to repeat these scenes over and over
you and i are on the beach and i am running and you stop me and i fall
as i fall you stop me and i wonder what we are doing in this place after all of this time after i convinced myself you were leaving
and you leave, how you leave, and i am left behind
always me left behind the wheel of this sad convertible
but i can't open the windows because the air is so biting it might rip apart my face
you and i will collide and i will release the wheel and you will take it and i will be no good
always no good and you're just no better.

4 months, 3 weeks, 2 days

I don't know what to make of this film, other than the obvious feeling of discomfort that I felt while watching it. On a holistic level, I felt it was very well made and the actors succeeded in their roles. On a deeper level, it had a political message that really hit home. 

The need to keep abortions legal is unquestionable, as seen from how frightening a make-shift abortion can be when done in a hotel room. Gabita, the girl having the abortion, was the quintessential girl who needed an abortion; she was a liar, a complete idiot, and extremely selfish. Her character personified the reasons as to why abortion needs to be legal. Interestingly enough, while watching the film, I felt no pity for her. I felt more pity for her roommate that was pulled into the situation by Gabita's foolishness and sheer immaturity. 

Oh the Romanian landscape...

new years resolutions.

My resolutions. Some clearly more important than others, but written mainly as they came to mind. Though I believe #10 is most important.

1. Take more pictures and document my life. I never take pictures. I have such a hard time with determining when, where, or with who. I have decided to become that person who takes pictures just "because." This means more photobooth albums and random city shots.
2. To visit more New York landmarks, including the Empire State Building, top of Rockefeller Center, see the Wall Street Bull, take the Staten Island ferry.
3. To see classic movies and try to catch up on classic books. 
4. To read more poetry and short stories, discovering new authors/movements.
5. To write more poetry and short stories.
6. To visit museums (at least once a month) when they have new exhibits, especially the Neue, Frick, Met, and the New Museum.
7. To improve my health and quit smoking for good. Which means no social smoking, no smoking at home, taking yoga 3+ times per week or going to the gym at least twice.
8. To learn to accept the things I cannot change.
9. To cherish the memories of my past as much as possible, while still realizing that they are in the past for a reason but that that does not take away from how special or unique they are, and keep said memories locked away until it's ok for them to surface. 
10. To accept the fact that love comes in many forms, and that it is okay if it is not the love you expected or desire, because whichever form it comes in, it still exists. True love never fades, it just alters its nature so that it can fit with your life. 

frost

as you left we cleared the frost from our cars just as we had so many times before. but you are not going to the places we used to go and that is how it will and should be, and i am not going to the places we used to go without you and you will leave and i will leave and our lives will resume but we will both leave with love in our eyes. 

how precious a thing can be when there is uncertainty behind its repetition. 

how precious a thing can be when nothing can take it away from you.

The New Year

The new year has finally arrived. I am prepared for all that it may bring me, but at the same time find myself nostalgic and reminiscing about various events of the past year that have impacted me, or that have proved themselves strong memories for one reason or another. A run down of the months would be unnecessary, seeing as I probably couldn't remember what happened when, just the general time frame. 

Last winter I was very much in love, very much ready to get an acceptance letter from college, anticipating numerous life changing occurrences. The winter was my waiting period, where I waited to hear where I would spend the next four years of my life and whether I would spend them with new people, or with some of the same. My winter was filled with love and warmth, with many nights spent just how everyone should have wanted to spend them. As winter ended, the letters came and I would soon discover that the vision I had was not going to happen. I was not going to spend four years in the fairy tale-esque fashion I had imagined. With that, I felt as if  the rug had been pulled from beneath my feet, so to speak, and I was unable to stand straight, or clearly see anything as not a direct shot against me. I still felt myself growing, not that I'm not still growing now. I had made my final decision as to where I would be, but not how I would be. I finished the first chapter of my life - high school - and was preparing myself to begin the next chapter. Really, preparing myself for my entire life to be completely changed. 

My summer was spent with beauty, love, and an underlying pain that sat with me in whatever I did. I spent it trying to finish a list of things I'd always wanted to do, but the list was not completed; I don't regret not finishing it, in fact I'm pleased I was able to accomplish more than half of it. My longing to go to school had faded slightly, but just enough to allow me thoughts of uncertainty and fear. My desire to leave my house had not diminished; I felt that I had made a poor choice. My love had not stopped and would not stop until the fall came and I had to force it out of me. I would feel that underlying pain up until October. Sometimes I still feel it. I still see my face when I left, and hear the awful sobs that I could not stop. 

The fall brought me my new life. The new place where I sleep, shower, eat, meet people, walk, sneeze. Every single little aspect was different, down to the place I keep my q-tips. I tried so hard to separate myself from my old life and my new life. It took until at least November to manage that. I spent October and November trying to rid myself of anger and unfair frustration, to allow myself to be at peace, to move on essentially. Proudly, I can say I succeeded. I am at peace, I have moved on, and can say without fear that my love never died, it just changed. I can say that change was not negative, and that fear was simply my own foolish nature. 

December brought me love and peace, even more than I expected. I was reminded of how strong love can never fade but can change, and should change. I was reassured that I was not alone in my suffering, which was bittersweet. I finished my first semester at NYU with outstanding grades and a new confidence I have never felt. I discovered a new passion for film and the arts that I had never felt before; the satisfaction from seeing a beautiful film and conveying its beauty to another has been unlike any other. Coming home to old friends was bittersweet; it was a harsh reality check in some instances but overwhelmingly incredible in others. 

2007 was a great and important year in my life. I hope 2008 can be just as eventful and filled with just as much love and peace. I want to become more passionate, develop greater goals, gain greater confidence, see all the classic films I possibly can, read as much as humanly possible, try to do as much as I can for me. Perhaps I just need to have a good old-fashioned selfish year where I focus on myself and my personal development. Or not. Anything can be expected.