before going home

i should be writing on paper, but i want to put this somewhere that other people might read it. really, i want to put it somewhere that you might read it, even though you don't know who you are. suffice it to say, this is addressed to someone.

i am listening to the end of ten, the part that isn't a song and comes after "release" and i should really get you into pearl jam. it doesn't sound like most of the stuff you listen to, but the words....and a few songs are just....i don't know.

it feels like a rearviewmirror kind of day.

it's only everything.....oh, god. i'm dreading going home, really i am. for so many reasons....it was so strange, watching everyone pack up and go away, and by the time i was packing up there was no one to keep me company, and by the time i leave there will be no one to say goodbye....realizing how much i'm going to miss shannon and how much i already missed you, because we don't really talk anymore, between engineering and the fact that i'm always surrounded by gay people.....i'm tired and i'm shaking and i don't know why. not really.....it's more of an extended twitch? and only in my left arm, and i'm not sure what that means.....

supposedly the store manager who doesn't want me to work there isn't going to be there much longer, and i take it with a grain of salt but it could be true, and it makes me want to go back....i wanted to go back anyway, but now i think it will be ok....

so two people who i'm not sure how i feel about broke up, and i'm not sure how i feel about the fact that they broke up, and no one will talk to me about it, and i want to know everything but i'm afraid i don't have a right to--actually, i'm pretty sure i don't have a right to, but i'm afraid of what might be the reason--typing comes so much easier than pen to paper; it's so much faster--and i'm afraid of going home to face that, and deal with it, and see all those places and all those people and spring break this year nearly killed me, and i can live with my family and won't mind that and the food will be good and oh, i'll cook for myself next year and get away from campus food, but it's everything else in my town....my house is fine, my family is fine, but i've got to get out of that town....

i don't think after this i will ever go back.

mostly i want you to understand that i love words, and i take them very seriously, but some words can mean so many different things....and i don't want you to get the wrong idea from an anonymous note that sounds very serious and was, but not in the way that i hope you don't take it....love is such a strong word, and it means so many things....

i want to cry, i need to sleep. maybe i'll cry myself to sleep. that's always a good one. i should pack up my computer before i go to bed. god, i'm tired.....in so many ways.

you were my first friend here, it occurred to me today. and one of my favorite memories from this year is the night we came sat in the window in the honors college for two hours watching snow.

spring

the daffodils are all dying, and tulips just aren't the same.

today's fun question:

"so are you allowed to have a boyfriend and a girlfriend at the same time?"

there is a large protest taking place outside my window.

to the people who demand that president bush step down, i have this to say:
if bush resigns, then cheney will be our president. and he shoots people in the face.

The Sculptor

you trace every line
of this fine form,
marking the curve of the shoulder,
the way the collarbone juts beneath the skin.
your words make it so.
each kiss awakens
a spark of life in what may as well have been marble
before you.
your touch is magic,
making her live,
making her beautiful.

7/26/05
i found this when i came home for spring break.....i like it.

sonnet 45

imagine if the muse had run astray--
her laughter i see living in your face,
her joy related newly every day
in the love that's present in the space
between us. life you give the muse who breaks
her chains to join us in rapt harmony;
reviving love you give this soul, who wakes
to hear the tones of this epiphany.
that muse seeks no forgiveness for her sin--
she knows transgression leads to greater good--
for she gives witness to the love within,
and sees though others say "should not!"--we should.
that renegade lends credence to my claims
by matching her creation with my aims.

finished 2/21/2006
inside the back of my linguistics notebook

ha

haha, so i totally fucked up my blog by using less-than and greater-than symbols. and i'm too lazy to fix it. but now i know not to do it again. maybe i'll fix it some other time.

who was margaret mead? i'm also too lazy to study.