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Is this the real life? Yuccacentric
Blistered Avalon
Debitage
Fish Gone Bad
Scattered Words
F*cknuts
Donkey Balls
Betrunkene
Is this just fantasy? Book of Days
JessaJune
Blue Like That
Crezappy
Too Much Information
Wockerjabby
Isomorphisms
Squarebook
Reality Sandwiches
Saturday, October 13, 2001
A clearer account of the events of last night than I was able to give.
spake the voices
I've been trying to cut down on my Internet time somewhat, and with all the Colgate bloggers I've been keeping track of, I've ended up reading the other blogs on my list a lot less. But just like over break there were people that I missed, but didn't notice that I missed until they came back, in this case I didn't realize how much I missed reading certain people until I got a nice comment from someone, and went back looking to see how everyone has been doing. And I found things that I can identify with, and some beautiful new designs which make my page look old and stale. And it was nice to go back and comment and remember why I like these people so much and like reading what they have to say.
spake the voices
Nothing was really going on this evening, so I just went down to Cushman House to see who was around and hang out. Let it suffice to say that when you walk into a house and two or three people grin devilishly and say "Well, isn't that convenient!" it's a very frightening thing.Oh, I wish I could put the evening into words, but I'll never capture it properly. There's too much I'll leave out, too much that you had to see or hear, too much that won't be as funny even when April-Lyn posts the pictures in her scrapbook. In short, I was put on trial for two counts of first-degree cereal dropping and one count of tennis-ball booby-trapping. We had prosecutors and D.A.'s calling themselves to the stand and asking themselves questions. We had a judge with a large rusty hammer. We had people swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help them Bohr, on the live cat, dead cat book. We had cereal boxes dusted for fingerprints with baby powder. We had jurors crawling around inside people's shirts. And oh, we had fun.
And then it was determined that I was guilty of the tennis ball incident and not guilty of the cereal crimes, and the jury decided that Stenny is definitely my bitch, and then we watched The Life of Brian and then layed around in the living room listening to Kevin's radio show, and found out that Dave makes a good pillow and/or footrest. And at four I woke up after being elbowed in the side, and walked back up the hill, the streets quiet, hours after the exodus from the bars.
spake the voices
Friday, October 12, 2001
Ass. Is everything "inappropriate" these days that suggests that maybe the United States isn't always right? God forbid people have other opinions. Opinions that may actually have a basis in fact. Gaaaaah.
spake the voices
Thursday, October 11, 2001
There's a lot I'd like to say, but I can't quite find the words right now. More later. (Maybe an ueber post, even.)For now, I just need to go someplace alone. Maybe just read or something. I'm tired and I have a headache, and I just can't listen to people's voices anymore right now.
It's a beautiful night for reading on the bench in front of Persson...
spake the voices
I love reading stories that take place in Boston, stories that mention this landmark or that landmark offhand, in a way that would draw most people into the fantasyworld of the narrative, but make me feel warm with the familiarity of it all. I liked reading The Women's Room and hearing about Sever Hall at Harvard, remembering when I was there and I had to search to find the women's room in the basement, exactly as it said; I liked reading "Sexy" by Jhumpa Lahiri for my fsem and picturing each T station as she mentioned it, knowing the stores and skyline in the background, knowing the things that the author doesn't mention, because I am as familiar with the setting as she. It gives me an unfair advantage over her words, almost. I don't know if it makes stories seem more like my life, or my life seem more like a story, but either way it makes me feel close to the narrative, as if there's a secret we're sharing, wink wink nudge nudge. The city may seem like a distant imagining to a lot of readers, but to us, well, we know it's real, the way you know things by touching them with your hands.
spake the voices
For the record, I have no particular intention to write an ueber post anytime soon. That's not to say it won't happen. But I'm not planning on it.Yeah. I just wanted to take the opportunity to spell ueber properly. Carry on.
spake the voices
Wednesday, October 10, 2001
I can feel this season starting to swirl down the same drain that they all have before. Only this time I'm noticing the pattern.It all just seems way too familiar. Myself, and others.
Sometimes I'm just convinced that humans ought to hibernate during the winter.
spake the voices
I have dealt with a couple things today which are way too fun but also entirely against the rules. Drat.But there are some things that are so amazing to find that I wish I could stop being a worrywart and go out and find them myself. Then again, I wouldn't know how to go about taking a door off its hinges even if I wanted to.
But I'm glad there are people who do, just so I can get a glimpse at the world inside.
spake the voices
Tuesday, October 09, 2001
good/bad/good/bad. not necessarily chronological order.good: erm, i had a pleasant morning
bad: people started showing up. so much for nice quiet empty colgate with a few friends down the hill.
good: people showed up who i didn't realize i'd missed until they came back. with gifts of glow-in-the-dark dragons.
bad: taking forever to find a seat at Frank because there were lots of people there and the back seating area was still closed.
good: someone missed my wit. i'm witty? that's a compliment that's never been directed at me before.
bad: mother of all headaches.
good: poptarts deliveries.
bad: so much work to do.
good: i finished the symposium.
bad: 55 pages over the course of four days. with nothing else to do. that's nothing to be proud of. get an attention span.
good: phone call from friend at home.
bad: something which shall not be mentioned here.
good: three hour pit rehearsal cancelled.
bad: lack of motivation. lack of interest. lack of light.Eh. Everything's sort of bittersweet right now.
spake the voices
Lemon tree, very pretty
And the lemon flower is sweet
But the fruit of the poor lemon
Is impossible to eat...~Peter, Paul, and Mary
spake the voices
I often feel like I need to share my music with people. On the highway or the roads through Middleboro or sitting at the light in Bridgewater center, I liked to turn up the volume so that you could hear Bruce Hornsby or Run Lola Run as clearly as you could feel the bass of the sports car with the huge speakers that was playing rap-crap. I figured if everybody was going to be forced to listen to their music, they'd just have to listen to mine too. I also felt a sense of duty, to play something of quality and enlighten the masses, so that rap would not take over the world after all. Or something like that.I've been doing the same thing lately. With all the roommates gone and East Hall mostly empty, I've been leaving my door open and playing my stereo so it can be heard in the stairwell. Sometimes it's just so I can share my music, the way the people downstairs do when they play U2 so loud that I can hear it outside on my way to Frank and realize that it was just the music I needed to hear. But today, after reading more about the strikes on Afghanistan, and punching my desk in anger even though I wasn't exactly sure what I was angry about other than that people were dying over there, it felt very important to me to play "Blowing in the Wind" so that everyone in the stairwell would also have to wonder how many times must the cannonball fly before they're forever banned? or at least know that someone else was wondering that.
I wish I knew why this bothered me so much. And why it bothers me so much more than the whole WTC thing did. Doesn't make any sense to me.
You've sown the seeds of peace in your daughters and your sons...
spake the voices
Monday, October 08, 2001
Weirdness for the day:1. They're cutting down my tree! When I woke up this morning there was a person in one of those bucket truck things pruning a big pine near my window. This was mildly amusing in that at one point Stenny had come up with an elaborate plan to sneak up on me and beep my ear to get a perfect thirteen on the surprise scale, and it involved pretending to be a tree-pruner and sneaking in my window. But when I came back from my shower, they'd taken the vast majority of the branches off the tree and it looked rather silly. Now all the branches are down and they're taking down the trunk little by little from the top of the tree. I now have an eerily clear view of the chapel. Strange.
2. I checked my mail today and found something that wasn't Colgate mail. At first this was exciting. The return address was unfamiliar, but then I saw that it was addressed to Amy Smith, and came to the conclusion that it was some relative or another, since only relatives call me that. But it didn't have my box number on it. In fact, it wasn't even addressed to Colgate, but rather 139 Seward Ave in Hamilton. How does one mix up Seward Ave and Oak Drive? You can't even make a case for them looking alike. And without a box number on it I have no idea how they determined that it should come to my box, especially considering that it didn't even say Amanda, just Amy. And although relatives call me that, there should be no reference to that nickname anywhere in the Colgate system. So by some series of flukes it ended up in my mailbox. So now I have a thank-you note for some gifts I never gave at a baby shower I never went to. Odd.Gripes:
1. It's nice talking to old friends. But when they ask if I've found a guy, and I declare myself to be single and most likely remaining that way, that they have the chutzpah to pity me and try to cheer me up. When I wasn't at all upset about the situation in the first place. Sad how friends grow apart. Sad how they don't know me at all...
2. I keep forgetting that I'm only a freshman and then remembering abruptly and feeling stupid for thinking that I really belonged here. And I'm torn between remembering and forgetting and wondering whether it matters. I should probably just not think about it. But it keeps nagging at me, just when I start to feel comfortable and happy. I should hang around with more first-years.
3. I don't like bombing people. Not countries, but people. Because that's what we're doing. It's not the countries that die from it.Good things:
1. There was snow on the trees when I woke up this morning.
2. My finger feels better. It's now only mildly sore.
3. Even as I realize how much I've grown apart from old friends, I'm growing closer to new ones. I don't like change, but sometimes it leads to good things. So maybe I should just learn to embrace the cycle instead of fighting it like I always do.Now that I've spent way too long on this entry, it's time for more Plato.
spake the voices
There is something really nice about being able to come in at two in the morning and not having to worry about waking up roommates. Aaaah...Fall break managed to come exactly when I really needed some personal time. Yay.
spake the voices
Sunday, October 07, 2001
The weather doesn't know what it wants to be today! It's fun watching it try to decide.
spake the voices
Bus rides. Catfish. Bruce Hornsby to drown out the movie. Plato's Symposium. Squeaky the hedgehog. Smiles. Daydreaming. S&G. Being elbowed repeatedly. Kiosk-taunting. Gargoyles with football helmets. Friendly hosts. Party in a too-hot room smelling like beer with bad music in the background. Sitting in a corner mingling with people I already know. Orion next to the moon. Seven hours of sleep. Rain. Bagel. Tailgate. Cider. Blue sky scattering the clouds. Stands music. Pushups. Winning the game. Bus again, seat to myself. Symposium. Whitlams. Mobile Chapel. Ghetto tetherball. Finger injury. Hamilton. Up the hill, and home sweet dorm.Now, a full night's sleep in a real bed. Innovative concept, no?
spake the voices