The Chicago Visit....

It went well. I had fun. Homework calls though, now. A real update later.

Babies!

I am going to see Sarah's baby today! I can't wait. The train ride will be an hour out and then an hour back in, and it will most definitely involve a time crunch, because I don't get out of class until 3:35, I'll catch the shuttle at 3:50. The train leaves at 4:44, so with any luck, I'll be there on time.
Emma Rae Lavery is 7 lbs, 14 ounces and she's beautiful. I spent so much time watching Sarah grow into a mother last year. I remember when she first started showing, I remember sitting through morning sickness, and this is the final product, a beautiful baby girl.
I love babies.

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

William Shakespeare

My Next Story.

A detective who handled the case was shocked to see a juvenile who was convicted of armed robbery and placed under house arrest playing on the high school football team.
Detective Larry Chevez was attending his son’s football game at Kennedy High School last Saturday when he noticed a 16-year-old youth that he arrested several months prior playing on the opposing team. “I was amazed to see someone charged with an armed robbery with a handgun playing on the field,” Chevez said today.
The youth was charged with armed robbery of a pizza delivery woman and released from a juvenile detention facility and subsequently placed under house arrest. He was ordered by a judge not to leave his house except to attend school and is monitored by an electronic bracelet that was attached to his ankle.
He plays for the Colonial High School football team, coached by Tony Guarino, who gave an exclusive interview today. “We just taped the bracelet up real good,” he said, acknowledging that he is aware of the youth’s house arrest and constant monitoring. School superintendent Gary Hubbard addressed the issue by saying that juveniles under home detention are allowed to participate in school functions, adding that students are not always suspended for crimes committed off campus.


Once again, these are all fake stories, put into my textbook by means of a paragraph of information, and then I turned it into this. My teacher read it today and asked me if I had any prior experience and when I told her I didn't, she told me that I have a knack for writing the news.
Yay!

September at the Beach.

I brought a long curtain, and laid it out on the beach. They set down their stuff, backpacks, shoes, and they left with their roller blades to go along the lake. I sat in my swimsuit in the oddly warm September air, and let the sun wash over me. I walked up to the water, and walked in up to knees, finding it too cold to actually swim in. As the sun faded into shadow behind the buildings, I watched the people around me. A little girl pulling a makeshift kite behind her. She was skinny, like little kids are, running back and forth between the edge of the lake and her mother, sitting in a beach chair a little ways away. Two men, laying on a blanket, enjoying the sun and obviously their mutual adoration of each other. A man in a thong, super toned and tan, actually jumping into the lake and swimming out to the orange and white buoys that mark the end of the pedestrian swimming area. I pulled my book out and read, uninterrupted, for the first time since I've been here. I took a picture of the sand, the city and the lake and sent it to him. It was nice to lay there, and to talk to him and to read and to watch everyone. When they came back, the sun had almost gone down and there was a little bit of a chill in the air.
And I finally slept well, for the first time in awhile.
He had a nightmare about me, and I felt bad, because I've been upset lately before I go to sleep and last night we talked for an hour before bed and we laughed and it was like we were hanging out again. As soon as I hung up the phone, I slipped into a peaceful sleep, and didn't wake up until six. And then again at ten.
Fifteen days. I called and made sure that my miles were going to count for that trip. I'm excited, because he's going to come out for last week of his winter break, maybe. I've been planning ahead, lately.

My Very First News Story. Sort of.

Well, here it is: It's fake. And I only had limited details to work with, but here's my final draft of a news article. Ah! Sort of exciting.

A 9-year-old Rockford resident’s challenge of a decision to close her roadside business led to victory today, allowing her to reopen her lemonade stand after it was shut down yesterday. A city code enforcement officer stopped by Stephanie Courhesne’s lemonade stand and forced her to pack up her things yesterday afternoon.
Stephanie’s father called city councilman Alyce Cycler to complain immediately. The councilwoman promised to have the issue resolved immediately and today, the code enforcement supervisor overruled the original decision.
After hearing about the decision, the mayor announced that she intends to become a regular customer of the lemonade stand, located on Highland Drive.

Stephanie Courhesne sets up her roadside lemonade stand outsider her home at 1186 N. Highland under the supervision of her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Adolph Courhesne. On weekends during the summer months, Stephanie charges a quarter for a cup of lemonade and a dime for a cup of water.
Her business is successful, bringing in about $3 to $5 a day, sometimes more when the weather is nicer. Stephanie must reimburse her mother for the cost of goods, but after that, she divides her profits between personal interest and her church. Ten percent of her profits go to the church; another ten percent goes into savings, and the rest is hers to spend “to buy toys, clothes, candy, and stuff.”
After she was noticed by a city code enforcement officer yesterday, she was forced to pack up her stand and take her cups, cooler, cardboard sign, and umbrella inside. Her father was upset, and after complaining to city councilman Alyce Cycler, the issue was resolved in less than twenty four hours.
The city code enforcement officer’s supervisor overruled the original decision and said that it was an error in judgement and also that Stephanie is welcome to sell as much lemonade as she can.
Stephanie’s lemonade stand is in a perfect spot, because Highland Drive is a popular place for people to jog, roller skate and walk near Lake Clarity.

Boston Legal

and to cap off my better night:

James Spader won an Emmy for best actor in Boston Legal.

I don't even know what it is about him, but James Spader....yum.

Countdown continues....

First off, happy birthday Aunt Joan! I hope you have had a wonderful birthday, and will have a wonderful year.
Secondly, in 18 days, I'll be in Oregon. And I cannot wait. This is insane. I've never been so happy. And he's 2,000 miles away. We're getting through it, though, so that makes me feel as though this year will fly by and then we'll have three months to see each other everyday next summer. It's not at all like my last long distance relationship, where I was basically single the entire time. We see eye to eye on almost everything, he listens to what I have to say, we don't fight, and if we do have an argument, he calms me down and then we talk it out. Strange, I know.
I'm keeping all major Jewish holidays this year. I explored a little bit of Judaism second semester of last year. I went to services, plays, and met a considerable amount of nice people. So next weekend is Yom Kippur, and I'll be fasting for 25 hours. I will allow myself water, though, because since I'm not technically Jewish I can make my own rules. My friend Becky is actually Jewish, so it'll be nice to have someone to guide me through my quest for religion.
Emily Bates, from St. Louis, came up to visit me this weekend and brought some of my stuff with her. It was fun, but a little strange, because her name is still on the door, as though she should have moved in.
In our crazy last few weeks in Colorado, we foolishly overlooked the two hour time difference and how it would affect our life. It's weird, but so worth it. I wake up to his text messages and I fall asleep to his voice, and my obsession is completely returned by someone who's not a no-good white-rapper-wannabe. It's nice because he's actually in college, learning things, and getting out and meeting people.
He'd be so mad if he knew I was typing this, but one of the last days that I was in town, we were having a picnic in the park, spending the afternoon sprawled out in the grass with just each other, and that's when it hit me that I wouldn't be able to do that anymore. My head was turned away from him, and so when I suddenly got silent, he knew, but wasn't sure. I saw the grass and the sunshine and I just lost it. He asked me what was wrong, and once I knew I had to answer, I started crying. He let me cry for awhile, telling me all the things he knew I needed to hear, and when I finally looked up, there were tears in eyes too. When it was time to go, we just got up, and left. It was the second most beautiful afternoon of my summer.
Mike likes him. I like that. Mike is very protective of me. I can't even wait to see Fruitypants in Chicago!!! Maybe it will kick-start his college application process. But even if it doesn't, it's weird not having Mike around. We're completely different, that much is painfully obvious, but him and I are still super close. We get each other, even though we definitely didn't hang out enough this summer, him and I are still playing the games we used to play over the dinner table when we were twelve.
I know, you're all sick of hearing about young love, but I'm ridiculously happy. And you have to read about it.

9/11 and birthdays

Where we you?
I was in the bathtub, in Dad's first apartment after the divorce. I was annoyed when Dad yelled through the door that he was turning on my tv because something had happened on the news. I got out, and then walked into my bedroom and stared. The tv was on top of my dresser, the blond one I'd had since I was a kid. It was set to images of the two large buildings in New York. One of them had flames shooting out the side. And all of a sudden, as I was watching, something flew into the screen and hit the other building. More flames, falling debris.
And then it hit them. Something bigger was happening. Not an accident, a plan.
September 11th wasn't all bad. Two very important people were born that day. Emma and John are six today. Little babies who didn't know what was happening to the rest of the world were in their own fight for survival. They'll hear about it, and they'll understand, eventually. They'll see that somehow they emerged from that day as a sign of hope for the people who knew them, or who knew of them. Even though they are separate from the events that took place, they will always be associated with that day. It's the circle of life: death and then birth. Or rather, birth, and then death. But it's not quite that simple. It's hope, and pain, and beauty, and the fight for something as important as life.
So Happy Tuesday. May you see beauty somewhere in the world today.

Strep. Want some? It's going around.

Fall is coming. And so is Emily. She'll be here on Friday! I can't even wait.
And then, of course, I only have a week after that until Mumu, Fruitypants, Aunt Sally and Grandma Mary get here.
And then after that, fall break and Oregon and Danny.
It's going to be a great September and beginning of October.
I talked to Mike. He's excited to come. Wants to do something exciting. I told him there was nothing he could do in Chicago that would be exciting. We'll see.
Ah, the Wellness Center.
I will never appreciate what they do for all of the students of Loyola. My roommate, bearing swollen lymph nodes in her neck, a sore throat that looked nasty, even from my vantage point (which didn't include the usual light and popsicle stick check), and a voice that would make a volverine purr with pain, went off to the Wellness Center only to be told that she was fine.
It's strep.
I am currently debating even going back and asking for a strep test. I went last Thursday with a sore throat, and a cough that included both blood and green stuff, only to be told it was merely a cold and my lungs sounded clear. No strep test.
I'll make an appoinment tomorrow afternoon.
Someone should say something to them about how inadequate they are. How hard is it, really? I used Steve last year as my "doctor," since he is pre-med and probably knows more than they do. In fact, I always feel like he'll at least offer you an answer instead of the usual cough drop and absolutely nothing you get there.
And don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those crazed college students you hear about faking illness for drugs. I don't think that any ailment can be solved with a prescription. I prefer not to put artificial medicines into my body, but when it's strep, or something like that, I'm all about proper treatment. Especially because it's such a contagious illness and I live in such close quarters with people.
Ah, such is life.
I need to get a doctor out here.
I love Danny. He stayed in last night so we could talk on the phone, and it's wonderful. He wakes me up each morning (just like he used to do in the summer) with a cute text message that completely energizes my morning.
Steve and I might look into yoga.
I've been getting very domestic lately. You should have seen the homemade pizza I made. I kneaded the dough, let it rise, formed it and voila! Pizza crust. Then sauce, cheese, veggies, meat. Bake. Food. Everyone liked it.
I do dishes. I clean the house. I whipped out my "Mom-Voice" on my roommate's boyfriend completely accidentally. He was like, "Katie, you sound like my mom." Ah. Wow.
I just realized that I don't really know what I want to do with my life except write. And suddenly, everything else is less appealing than usual. So I think I will just become a writer and then not worry about having an actual career. Because the 9 to 5 won't make me happy. Did it work for any of you? I don't want to wake up one day and realize that I never did anything I wanted to because I was worried about attaining status or making money (but then again, I'll probably wish I had). So we'll see.
I did write a sweet lead for a story in one of my Journalism classes. It had to be no more than 25 words, and while the rest of the class labored over it for quite some time, I had 21 words in less than 30 seconds. So, see, I'm not bad at this.

Countdown begins....

26 days until fall break! Oregon, here I come.
Yeah, we're counting, we know. It's lame. But how many times in my life will I be able to say that I've flown cross country for love?
Drama exploded here this weekend, but on the whole it was laid back.
Nice discussions with both Katie and Danny. Katie's sort of significant other, Ben, asked her when she was going to grow out of our friendship. Wow. Katie has been my other since freshman year of high school. We did the long distance relationship through freshman year, and got even closer, if that's possible, this summer. I wouldn't be able to survive if I didn't know that she will always be there for me. My wall is covered in pictures of Katie, Colorado, and Danny. But mostly Katie. And Colorado. Don't ever underestimate between best friends. Especially not the Katies.
Emily from Denver came this weekend, bringing her roommate unexpectedly, which caused disastrous results. And I am $17 poorer as a result of her inability to navigate city streets and find a parking spot.
However, things have continued. I got into a fight defending gay rights with someone's roommate, which ended in me walking out after I asked him to please not use the word "hate." He refused. I don't stand for that. As a woman, I know what it's like to be ogled and objectified, so when he told me he had that experience ONCE in his life and, as a result, "hates gays," I fought back. It was ridiculous. Some people are so ignorant and disrespectful.
Ah, well, getting a little chillier here.

Chinese water torture

As of sometime yesterday, my shower will not stop dripping. Hot water is contantly (and I mean a small but constant stream) falling out. Not little drops, occasionally. I don't know what to do. I mean, I guess I should TMA it. TMA (I have no idea what it stands for....the maintenance association?) is Loyola's little way of helping a student out. But do they ever come and fix the problem? Probably not. Any ideas? Plumbing fixes? Grrrr........if I leave the bathroom door closed, the constant stream of hot water warms my bathroom way too much, but if I open the door, I hear it.
.....
....
....
....
....
it's like that, sort of. Un-ending.
Got heated in Journalism class today. Not only was the classroom hotter than 90 degrees, but I shared my opinion on a document release that was not met well by the professor. I am worried that she may feel as though I was irreverant, but I asked a fellow student and they told me I was fine. However, it was merely a disagreement, and a sharing of opinon. We were essentially saying the same thing, but I was pushing for citizens to remember that this is a democracy, and that the majority vote does tend to rule.
I was sitting there, in my two and a half hours of ninety plus degree hell, when I feel my phone vibrate. (Of course I'd feel it, even when it has to be silent, it's never more than three feet from me.) A text message: "Hey, just in case you wondered, I am kind of madly in love with you." And so of course my whole day got a little brighter.

September Commences.

Ah, Labor Day weekend. Festive, of course. Friday night, spent with Maddie (from Colorado) and her boyfriend. Saturday night spent with Melissa, my roommate, and her boyfriend Bobby at his new place. The University Center is home to dorms for Columbia, Roosevelt, and DePaul. His roommates are quiet, studious, and definitely not into loud noises and fun. Sunday night, I went to my friend Hunter's for his housewarming party and his roommate Ian's 21st birthday. It was so good to see everyone again, and it was definitely a weird experience to see him and his ex-girlfriend with their new significant others. People tell me I'm glowing with happiness these days, but I think I just purposely act happier in public than I am. No, that's a lie, I really do glow sometimes. I have my plane tickets to go out to Oregon for fall break! (Thirty days.)

Yesterday, I went to the beach with Melissa and Bobby and we played in the lake and buried each other in sand and it was probably the best day I've spent here yet. Four blocks from my dorm, there is a beach. It's amazing. I just walk up Michigan Ave and I'm there. My camera currently has sand in it, but the lens does come out most of the way, so I'm sure it's just a matter of time before it's up and running again. I hope. We came back and we all made dinner together. Spaghetti and sausage, caesar salad, watergate salad, cheesecake for dessert, garlic bread.

And then the madness continued late into the night.

And we woke up, this morning, and life goes on.

And there's something somewhere that's pulling at me, and I'm not sure what it is. And I know what it's about, and I'm scared, because the feeling is deeper than usual. Fear, jealousy, resentment, hatred. Something, somewhere is stirring that. And it's starting to boil. He means nothing by it, but I feed off it and mull it over in my mind, and suddenly there is nothing there but that. Him and them. Him and her. Nothing. But my jaw is set and my eyes are cold. And there's nothing that will change that, until he realizes that I am not okay.

Gluten glutton

Perhaps I have conquered gluten.
I ate a chocolate cupcake.
Well, half of one.
And then a couple bites of spaghetti.
I am not yet ill.
It has been long enough.
Perhaps, then, I am alright.

Midsummer's Education Nightmare

Introduction to Shakespeare.
I should have known.
Introduction. For people who've never read Shakespeare.
I, on the other hand, have read more Shakespeare than the average person.
The second day of class (the first official day, because we were going over the syllabus the first day), we talked about what it was like during Shakespeare's time. And I don't mean describing the political atmosphere, or the social conditions that the people were forced to live in.
Nope. We talked about what the Renaissance meant. We discussed the fact that it brought about the scientific method, a renewed interest in philosophy, math and science.
Duh.
Everyone from the age of 10 on knows this.
Easy A, I know, but brain torture. I feel dumber already.
I do this. I sign up for classes that sound easy because I'm afraid to actually come across a challenge that I can't meet.
I met this one, though, my junior year of high school.
Shakespeare, I'm so sorry that your work has been dumbed down for college students who never got it in high school.
The teacher, a middle aged man, socially awkward, was asking the class about their anxieties for the semester. (yeah, any professor who brings emotion or fear into the first lesson is going to be a total pushover, even though he wants to pretend he's a hardass.) And as we were talking about maybe not understanding the language (grrr...... it is, after all, English), a book dropped in the hall and he asked the class if we were worried about bullets in the halls. As soon as he said it, he chuckled, and then must have seen the looks on our faces because he immediately corrected himself.
Ah, the glories of the politically correct statement.
Introduction to Shakespeare, here I come.

The downside

Fall break can't come soon enough. Shortly after Mom, Mike, Aunt Sally and Grandma Mary come through Chicago, I hope to be heading off to Oregon to spend a long weekend there.
My stomach has been increasingly more upset lately. I'm never hungry, but I often feel faint or sick. It's as though I need to eat, desperately, and even though I do, it seems like nothing is ever enough. I can't eat much, because if I do, I'll be sick, but I know that I need to eat. It's a difficult situation that I am wondering how to handle. There have been no substances entering my bloodstream via lungs or stomach, and I'm wondering how that is affecting my feelings of illness. Certain things do tend to take away the nausea that I often feel.
I'm sure this cold isn't helping. I feel tired because I am so sick, and I can't kick the cough or the sinus drainage.
Way too much information, I know, but it feels better typing it all out. I know what you're all thinking, "Hey, doesn't Loyola have a Wellness Center?" Yeah, we do, but I am not going. They're going to tell me I have IBS and then give me cough drops. I'll just wait it out.

Address:
26 East Pearson
Box #0601
Chicago, IL 60611
Use my full name: Katherine

Danny and I have been communicating via iChat, which allows us to talk and see each other through our computers. Mom, all you have to do is set up that camera and then get on AOL (so you can Instant Message me) and then send me a video invitation. It works. It's pretty sweet, actually.

I think I'm going to go make some breakfast. I'm not sure that it will help, and I'm nervous that this is going to turn into something worse. Emily was hospitalized last night again for the same reasons as before. Stomach. Stomach. Stomach. And they never find anything, and there's never anything they can do, but she's still really ill. I think it's odd that the two of us are both so sick for no apparent reason all the time, although hers is most definitely more severe.

Adjustments.

The building rises out of the ground, standing among the others, not different, and somehow not the same. 25 stories tall, it is hardly the tallest building around, yet it rises slightly above it's neighbor, the top of it proclaiming it's affiliation for all the world to see. My room is plain, for the moment, white walls and clutter, furniture against most of the walls. Two desks, dressers, beds, chairs and closets. One bathroom. All mine. Shower, only, of course, although since I am alone in this room I would have enjoyed a tub, and been able to make sure it was clean.
Groceries. Gluten free. The words pop out at me from the boxes that line the shelves and I see them, pick them up, and hope that they'll taste even adequate.
I hear his voice in my ear, he's telling me his fears, and I'm unable to comfort him. I told him my story, how even this year, I cried and cried and begged her to take me back with her. He's scared. I'm scared for him.
But here it goes, on and on.
Broken toe. Kicked a couch. Problem. It's purple. First broken bone of my life.
Roommates are awesome. Love them. Thank god.
Classes are not bad either.
Coughing fit in the bookstore. Lawyers. Awkward. The salesclerk handed me a cough drop and it didn't work.
Love.

Chicago, again

As we started saying goodbye, that day edged closer and closer. And then it was pushed off again, distant, and somehow the time started to slip faster. The last week, my last given days in Colorado, went so fast. There was the final show at Red Rocks, planned. There was the one on Wednesday that neither of us were expecting. Katie left last Saturday, and I do regret that I wasn't able to get up to Ft. Collins to see her before I left.

I'm tired. Waking up Friday morning was difficult. The hours slipped by, and tears leaked out every now and then. Stupid things would set me off. He'd tell me he loved me, and I'd lose it. And I thought that nothing could get worse until today. Because it actually hurts. The space where my heart was hurts. My legs, my head, my arms, my back. I am lovesick. The smile was stuck on my face all yesterday. We sat at Stella's. Our first place and our last, memories sliding easily between us. I think of the first night we hung out, the first inside joke. And it kills me. Because I know that no one believes in this. Not many people support our decision to try and stick it out. I've heard the typical "You need to keep your options open." or "Long distance? You're so young." It doesn't matter. Maybe it's because I'm young that I'm open to the possibility of love in the tougher places. I don't know. I'm following what I feel, and I'm usually not wrong.

I miss my mountains. I miss the sunset. I miss Danny.

This may be the beginning of my last semester at Loyola. Either that, or I will finish out the year. But I am keeping other possibilities open, only because I feel that one should not approach higher education with dread. I purely dread going back to my apartment. I dread going to class. I dread eating alone. I dread having to spend Friday and Saturday nights curled up in bed with a book (although for an extended period of time, I would be alright.) I just can't live without my friends. And to those of you who believe in "sticking it out," I'd like to point out that someone like myself, who is shy and has difficulty making friends, has no chance in a place where I do not feel comfortable.

That's that. And I'm going to be happy, whether it's in Chicago, or Denver, or Tahiti, or wherever.

I get pissy when I'm tired. That's a known fact. This morning, I got held up at security because the man in front of me was excited to get to flash his Arapaho County Sheriff's Office badge, and talk about how he had a knife with him. ...Power trips annoy me. We get to our gate, way down the A concourse, and of course, he was on the phone, talking loud enough for the entire waiting area to hear. I was not going to sit around and listen to it, and I know that neither was anyone else. I watched people look at him, and he sat there, oblivious. So I got up. And I called him out for being too loud. At five in the morning. I was very nice about it, and I threw in a nice little hand gesture in case he had any doubts as to my meaning. I lowered my hand as though it was a volume guage, and apparently my mom got a thumbs up from some guy who was watching me do all of this.

we'll talk about the room, the roommates...all of that. later.

August continues

I'm cheating. I'm eating gluten. And it is so good. I got home tonight and cooked one of those single serving party pizzas. And am in the process of eating it. All in all, only a fourth of the crust is actually gone, so I'm sure that I won't be too sick.

It's worth it.

Seriously.

Those are pictures from the Continental Divide one morning when we were driving down from Vail. And then the ones with the rainbows in them are from Red Rocks. Katie and Danny and a couple of our friends and I went to the Slightly Stoopid and G Love show on Friday night. it was absolutely wonderful.

Nothing like the summer to make you fall in love

Well, that was an unexpected summer. I didn't want to come back, not at all, and now I find myself not wanting to leave. I've been saying my goodbyes, slowly but surely. Tonight was hopefully my last shift at Dairy Queen; I walked out with the best feeling in my stomach. I was so sick of it, by the time it ended. We were packed today, with people who thought that they were donating money everytime they bought themselves a four dollar blizzard. But, no, the owners wouldn't allow the money to be donated. Instead, they keep it (because they refuse to participate in the Children's Miracle Day program-thing) and let people think that they are doing some sort of dollar good in the world. And they're not. I carefully step over it in conversation, not denying yet not agreeing to anything.
We're going to try and make it work. We decided that the other night, after we'd realized that something wasn't right. So it's me and him now. And it's wonderful. He finally met Mom. Him and Mike get along. And tonight, him and Katie went to see a show at Red Rocks while I was at work. He's perfectly cute and college bound and more importantly than any of that, he makes me happy. And Mom likes him. Keep your fingers crossed.
I can't leave now. I'm in love.
We drove up to Red Rocks, two sketchy kids in a Lexus, to see the sunrise last weekend. The pictures knocked me back. It was perfect. A spur of the moment decision made after we'd already lost most of the night to conversation. There was a food run, but other than that, we stuck to the routine. He wanted to drive back to St Marys Alice, and thinking of that hike, I suggested Red Rocks instead because I knew that after zero sleep I'd be tired. We went, and stood and watched, and I realized that there is no place more lovely than Colorado. I've never been more content.
I am still waiting on the bloodwork for the gluten allergy. I hope...actually, I'm not sure what I hope. If it's no, than thank god I am not allergic to it, but then what's wrong with me? And if it's yes, which it most likely is going to be, than I can't eat bread. or sandwhiches. Or cookies. Or cereal. Or graham crackers. Or brownies. Or cake. Or crackers. Or certain kinds of ice cream. Or granola bars. Or granola. No pizza. No pasta. Ahhhh......

I'm complaining and I shouldn't be. Chicago is up the air, once again. Dad has offered to drive me, Mom has offered me a plane ticket to St. Louis. I don't know how I'm going to manage getting there, so I think I will try to drive. I move in at 8 am that Monday. Danny offered to drive too, and I think that'd be more fun than any of the other options, but I highly doubt his parents would approve of that.

So we shall see. In the end, it's always what will be that will be.

And so it ends, so soon, already.

The alarm went off at four in the morning, and we pulled ourselves from the places that we had been sleeping. I was wrapped in a blanket, comfortable, having just fallen asleep an hour or so before. We piled into his car, and drove to make it there by sunrise. Past Idaho Springs, a little ways, and then up a winding road. It was cold, the windows were down, and Grateful Dead was playing in the background. We passed the signs: St Marys Alice. We parked and then hiked for longer than I would have liked, but since I was with the boys, I didn't complain and just followed them, up and up the rocks. We watched the sun crest over the mountain and we nestled ourselves onto some sort of rocky ledge. He put his arms around me and kissed my cheek in one of those perfect movie moments. And then we sat, in the cold, and watched him climb up and up the mountain. He yelled my name and waved, and then I realized that this is perfect. It's the perfect end to childhood, to being wild, to exploring and experiencing everything. This summer has been the summer that it should have been. From here comes the unknown, but for now, today, and everyday, it's comfortable and perfect and wonderful. Just like him. And Katie. I felt my eyes water yesterday, nestled into his neck, and even though I tried to smile so he wouldn't find out, I had to turn away and not let him see what I was feeling.

The sunrise pictures are from somewhere on i-70 or pena boulevard on the way to the airport. the rain pictures are off hampden.

The First Day of My Life

So it's not the best picture we've taken in our lives, but it's still sort of cute....

This picture reminded me of swans. I spent most of yesterday laying in various parks around Denver, and as the sun started to go down, a certain air of contentment settled over me. The colors were that perfect, somehow enhanced hue that you'll rarely get the time to see. I was with my two favorite people and even though the storm was coming, we were safe there, for that moment. We settled in and waited, and I wanted to capture it and put it in a snow globe and save it forever. But of course, I clicked madly, taking pictures right and left, but they just don't do it justice.

"First Day Of My Life"

This is the first day of my life

I swear I was born right in the doorway

I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed

They're spreading blankets on the beach

Yours is the first face that I saw

I think I was blind before I met you

Now I don’t know where I am

I don’t know where I’ve been

But I know where I want to go

And so I thought I’d let you know

That these things take forever

I especially am slow

But I realize that I need you

And I wondered if I could come home

Remember the time you drove all night

Just to meet me in the morning

And I thought it was strange you said everything changed

You felt as if you'd just woke up

And you said “this is the first day of my life

I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you

But now I don’t care I could go anywhere with you

And I’d probably be happy”

So if you want to be with me

With these things there’s no telling

We just have to wait and see

But I’d rather be working for a paycheck

Than waiting to win the lottery

Besides maybe this time is different

I mean I really think you like me

-Bright Eyes

That's how I feel these days. That's how I felt when I took that picture. Even with all of the drama that comes along with it, especially from my ex, it's still lovely. He notices the little things, is aware of my moods, and doesn't let me walk all over him.

Glenwood

The trip to Glenwood was great. We went up on Tuesday night, and stayed in a hotel there. We went out to dinner (gluten free for me!) and then went to the pool. I'm feeling so much better and I'm so happy that I figured out what the problem is. I'm hoping it's temporary, because this low-carb diet that I am unintentionally on is annoying. We went to Subway yesterday, and of course, all I wanted was a sandwhich, but I had to settle for a soda instead. The drive was gorgeous. It was so nice to just turn up the music and go.

Back to Denver. I took this whole week off since we're not going on a vacation this summer. I've been hanging out with Katie and Danny and Emily, since she's been in town. I'm really glad that everyone gets along. She leaves today, and then I'm going back to work and back to the usual habits.

This is Emily, my roommate for next year. She is staying with me until Thursday of this week. We are driving up to Glenwood today to see the pool and hang out around there for awhile. That is Danny, one of the people I've been hanging out with almost every day this summer. I think he's wonderful.

In other news, I have possibly discovered the cause of my month-long illness. I believe that I am allergic to gluten (wheat) and have been not eating any and feeling a lot better. This is of course bad news because that means I can't eat chocolate cake anymore, or bread, or really anything that I like.

Oh well.

July. So far.

Wow. It's already July. It seems like just yesterday it was the end of April and I was stretched out on the couch in Chicago thinking about how I didn't want to go home.
Well now I am home, have been home, and am currently thinking I don't want to go back to Chicago. This summer, so far, has been absolutely wonderful. There's been a lot of drama at work. I'm back to the forty hour a week grind, and I'm hating every minute of it. There's something in the attitudes of the people who live in Highland's Ranch. It's their superiority complex, the one that assumes that I must have an IQ of 12 and that I don't attend college, and am therefore not able to relate or conversate with them on any level. Huh.
Let's see. Double major. Triple minor. I'd like to tell them a thing or two. The owner has been treating my manager Heidi terribly. She's one of my good friends, and I just can't stand to see her have to help customers while she's crying. This is officially my last summer there. Next year, I'll have to find a job as an intern or something. I can't do this anymore.
The money is fine, but it's just not worth it. I'm losing out on my friends because since I am the only one who cares, I have to take the shifts that no one else will take, which means I work most nights.
That's great, but my friends work during the day. So they get off right as I'm going in to work. It's no fun.
I've been hanging out with Katie, of course, but some new people as well. Amanda and Danny were friends with Alex's group, which is sort of mine, which is sort of just everyone who hangs out at Stellas, which is sort of like a giant social network. Anyway, I am finally super happy and having a good time with other people. Not that the routines have changed. It's still the same things, but just with different people. And this summer, the guy I like has a car. Haha, so I don't have to drive everywhere. And they go to college. Wow. I'm moving up.
I've been losing weight because my stomach is constantly upset. That's been fun. Not. I have completely lost my appetite, and when I eat, I get stomachaches. So we'll see how that goes. Currently, I'm edging closer to where I was when I left for school, and that's not necessarily a good thing. I just want to be hungry again, so I don't have to feel like a moron when all the boys are halfway through their second hamburger and I can hardly get halfway through my first one.
My friend Emily from St. Louis is coming to visit tomorrow. I am so excited. We are going out tomorrow night, obviously, and then I have no idea what to do for the next couple of days. I want her to meet all my friends, and then I want to take her to Red Rocks and stuff.
Too bad we can't go to WaterWorld. Maybe we will anyway.
P.s. Thanks to Aunt Sally for that information about the crows. I hadn't thought of it like that, and it was super helpful. On the plus side, they haven't been around in the past couple of days, so maybe they've found someone else to bug.

June progresses.

It has started as the best summer of my life, and I am hoping things continue that way. New friends, two of them, and Katie make the space between work and sleep amazing. Swimming, coffee, it's all the same, of course, but with slightly more interesting conversation and some strange happenings. Tonight, as we sat reliving the day, we watched a kid we knew get slapped and have coffee poured on him. Work has been hectic, obviously, getting busier and busier. I am currently extremely annoyed about the people there, and their rudeness, but hey, it pays the bills, right? So things are moving on....nicely.

Red Rocks Pictures.

June

Summer is progresssing beautifully. I got my first paycheck, and am debating as to how to spend it. I decided that I was going to give myself the first paycheck to play around with and then save the next ones. So we'll see how that goes. As I type, Mike is burning the gas I put in the car. It actually hasn't been too big of a deal having to fight over cars this summer, especially because we have been given gas cards. Those are the best gift anyone could ever be given, by the way, so thank you to everyone who does that. And cash, haha, but that's another story. I have a pile of thank you notes that need to go out...I have to get around to that. Maybe now that I've typed it, it'll actually be official and my mind will work harder to get them out.
I've been working a lot, obviously, and after work I've been doing the usual summer stuff. Coffee shops, sneaking into the hot tub, seeing all the old friends. Haunting the old haunts. You know.

Back to work....

Ah, the joys of the 40 hour work week. I have one day off a week, usually Wednesday, and I have been closing most nights. The store out in Highlands Ranch is busier than the one on Colorado Blvd, and the people there are much ruder and expectant than the ones I'm used to. The other employees are not quite what I expected, and I am unsure that I will ever fit in with them. I'm way too much of a free spirit for that. I answer to Heidi, she's the manager there now, and she took me from Colorado Blvd with her. They do everything backward, and it annoys me. The assistant manager has a giant ass (I had to say it...it's true. HUGE) and complains when the store gets busy. It's Dairy Queen, of course it's going to get busy. You have to learn to love the rush, the adrenaline pumping through your veins, the quick pace. It's what it's all about. She doesn't do anything. I am 19 and doing all of the work. I took three orders to her one, and was making things cleaner than she was. That's weird, because my nickname is the Tornado and I am still managing to be cleaner than her. Ahhhh....I get called in early, and then I have to stay late. I stayed there until 12:30 tonight. Ridiculous.

Wow, it's been a crazy couple of weeks. Mom keeps bugging me to blog, so I guess I'll tell you about the drive out of Chicago to St. Louis. That was fun. It's a relatively short drive; we stopped a couple of times to just mess around and get snacks. Five hours. All of my stuff fit, even though I did have to ditch some non-essentials. St. Louis is nice. Emily lives in a suburb called Chesterfield. I met all of her friends and hung out with them.
Now I'm back here, hanging out. Saw the girls last night.
Today I am nineteen.
I'll edit this later.

Argyle

It's a full house, here. Two people on the couch, two in one of the bedrooms, and one in each of the other two. There are computers littered throughout the living room, laptops on tables, a desktop on the coffee table. Blankets and pillows create carpet, perfect for tripping on. The hookahs (both of them) sit on the coffee table between the still full cups of rum and dr. pepper that lay forgotten because of a midnight power outtage. DVDs, cameras, spoons, a bottle of perfume...all of these have made their way into the setting that is this house. The girls have moved in now, their stuff lines the narrow hallway, pours out of an alcove, crowds the bathtub and the sinks. He has a little closet, for his one bag, while they take up half the house with theirs. The doors are always opening and shutting, dishes are piling up in the sink. Macaroni and chicken noodle soup are the meals of choice here, washed down with potent beverages served in dirty mugs or plastic cups. We're living at the edge of humanity at the moment. An impromptu gathering last night led to most of this commotion. People in and out, in and out, talking, laughing. It was awkward. His ex-girlfriend was there. I played nice and did a very good job. He woke up on the other side of the floor this morning, and kissed me on the cheek when getting out of bed this morning, a nice way to start the day. I haven't cleaned. I know I should have. Instead, I stood on the porch in last night's shirt and a pair of boxers, hair wild and tangled, makeup smeared, and inhaled the fresh air while swallowing Excedrin and a glass of water. Tuna fish sandwhiches are horrible hangover food. I don't know whose idea that was. The amount of chaos creates a fun atmosphere, last night I spilled coffee into the stove and had to clean it up with a bath towel that we found under the kitchen table. The hamper sits next to the kitchen chairs, the table piled with a tv, some empty packs, soda, a bottle or two, coffee cups, mail. No one sits there. That's just the way it is.
I have been driving Becky's car through Chicago. It's a wonderful feeling, driving around, knowing where I am, driving down Lake Shore Drive taking the boys to class and then driving back up to Loyola to pick up Emily. I love it here, and I am dreading my birthday. I don't want this little episode to end. Next year, everything will be different, and for now, I am completely comfortable. Why does it have to end in a few days? The boys leave Friday, and so does Emily. Becky and I leave Sunday.
I still don't know how I'm going to get my stuff home. Stressssss.......but it's already alright, I have a steady remedy; we're doing the same exact thing tonight.

plans

For Mom, who counts the days until I come home:

Leaving Chicago the 13th with Becky.
We are going to try and fit all of my stuff into Emily's friend's car, who is coming to pick Emily up a couple of days before. In the mean time, I will ship as much stuff as I can home.

From Chicago, we are driving to St. Louis, and I will remain there with Emily until the afternoon of the 17th when I will fly home to Denver.

I start work the 19th.

And suddenly, summer is over.

Act Two, Scene Saturday

The lights go down, the audience hushes singularly, as though their murmurs were a group effort and not individual conversation. Soft music pipes from somewhere behind, some sort of jazz, fast paced yet slow enough to keep the moment. The lucky patrons in the front row can smell the faintest hint of cigarette smoke floating behind the curtain. It opens, then, when no one is expecting it, flung back with a great flourish. The light comes from somewhere above the stage, no shadows, only the four players gathered around the little coffee table and on it, the board.

One of them rolls, haphazardly, her eyes twinkling mischievious as she stares in his direction. The hotels are upset by her dice, flying everywhere, causing the blond one to yell in frustration. It's girls against boys, and the tension in the room is obvious. Back and forth, the money changes hands, back and forth. They roll, move their little pieces down the allotted number of spaces, letting fate choose for them. He's unlucky, they've decided, every roll of his brings the impending disaster of financial ruin closer and closer to their team. Blue eyes find his brown, and she giggles, knowing he knows there's no way out. She shifts, the floor suddenly too uncomfortable for her, sliding her foot under his leg and letting it rest there, as if she doesn't feel his weight on it. She waits, taking a sip of her poison while the brunette rolls. His hand finds her ankle, then slides up, silent acknowledgement of her move. There is more than one game going on at this little table, and they are lucky players, testing strategy versus fate. This continues for some time, the rolling, the yells, the agony, the joy as the girls finally begin to take the upper hand. Their properties are all bedecked with hotels, while the unlucky boys have been forced to mortgage most of theirs. When they concede, the girls high five and hug, pulling their piled money closer to them to take the final count. There is no uneasy silence, only the soft moans of defeat and the ecstatic squealing of girls who came back to take it. She's lucky, and she knows it, sitting there, slididng her foot up his leg.

The fan is on, the windows open, so the three of them, two pretty girls and the unlucky man, find themselves sitting out in the perfect city night. There are no stars, obviously, city living takes the wonderful away, but the sounds of distant sirens and cars bring another feeling to the situation. They are comfortable, surrounded by darkness on their well-lit porch. They wait, and then throw the remains as far over the fence as they can, hoping they'll land in the street and be forgotten until morning. The brunette with the brown eyes makes her excuses, blaming the need for sleep, and goes inside. The two of them, both dark haired, somewhere between black and brown, sit there a minute longer, lingering over nothing.

She takes her spot, perching on the couch under piles of blankets and stacks of pillows. He joins her, unexpectedly, but to her delight and hopefully his. They put in the movie they fell asleep to the night before, and wait as the blond one checks his email and goes to sleep. They lay there, on the couch, under the blankets, and let their hands find each other. He puts his hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently, as she puts hers on his stomach, unmoving but comfortable. And when he is finally gone, and they hear the door down the hall close, he leans in toward her face and kisses her. Her eyes close, and for the next few minutes, or hours, they make the soft advances they are allowed. Just kissing, only eyes and ears and lips and necks, hands find backs and shoulders and arms and finally other hands, and she opens her eyes and stares into his. They laugh, there's something funny now, a giggle here, a whispered word in his ear.

And they fall asleep content.
As his slow snore fills the little liviing room, the jazz music that had faded after the Monopoly game slowly starts to overtake their breathing, and the curtain drops.

Friday.

We were sitting in the bathroom, I perched on the bathtub and him on the sink when he told me and I felt my heart sink. News like this shouldn't ever be spoken aloud. We walked around the rest of day, not altogether separate, with it hanging over us. Our minds clouded, we left for different places with the same thoughts, and as the night passed, it grew and grew until it lurked behind me whenever I moved. I slept soundly, under the blanket of a familiar stranger, his pillow holding my head as I slept. I didn't think to wonder why I could turn over and not feel constricted, but instead I wondered if he missed his pillow or would mind that I had taken that spot.
I woke, folded things, arranged them as they were before the board games had progressed, and rushed back to school, to shower, to train. Backward, music drifting through my ears, I sat as the metal cage pulled me toward the city. It wasn't even noon, yet my day had ended long before it began. It ended yesterday, in that little bathroom in that little room in that building. I waited, noting that the drizzle was perfect atmosphere for a somber day such as this. I waited, watching faces. Sometimes, they'd turn back, letting their eyes hold my glance as they walked away, but I did not smile, I did not break the eye contact. I did not care.
He came through the ominous turnstiles, the long walk began. I followed behind, no idea where we were going. Street, street, light, left, right, straight. Walk. Walk. Walk. Finally, I saw it and he explained. We went into the elevator, silent, not daring to say what both of us were thinking.
I sat in a chair, reading shallow fashion magazines, while I waited, and when he came out, I looked up, expecting tears and defeat but seeing instead only past him as he pulled my hand and told me we were getting lunch.
The minute the door closed behind us, we hugged, the kind of hug you see in movies. He picked me up off my feet and we walked like that, embracing, back to the elevator. His smile told me everything, and suddenly the weight was gone. I held him down the elevator, in the street. And we smiled and laughed, and joy was back again.
He bought me lunch, at the favorite diner, under an el station. I had a whole grain waffle and some fresh fruit.
I made it back in time for class.
Here I am, carrying things out.

Today was the last lecture of my freshman year of college. Mom cried when I texted her from class. She's been missing me lately for some reason. It's probably because this is the point where I realize that I'm yearning to stay away. Not, of course, because I don't want to go home, but because I'm finally happy, comfortable, enjoying this city for what it is, and suddenly I'm going to have to go back to rules. I'm used to coming and going as I please, whenever, no matter the time. I'm used to the lifestyle that goes along with this place.
I miss you too Mom. Don't worry. I talk about you all the time and Emily can't wait to me you. Steve thinks he'll be able to stop into Denver, and maybe you can meet him then. I miss our house and all the noise, even though there's plenty of noise in the apartment for Mike and I put together and more. I miss the chaos, the clutter (even though it's actually way worse at the apartment....), and the fact that no one else has what we have. So don't think I've forgotten anything. I miss the smell of our house, my bathtub, my big bed, my green bean, the bright yellow kitchen table, searching for food in cupboards (although I do that here an awful lot too), you and me time. Blah blah blah. Sentimental crap, I know. But I'm trying to make you feel better, because today is going to be a good day and an even better night!!!!!

I'm 1/4 of the way through college! (undergrad, at least!) and i'm going to celebrate. hard.

Futuresque

I have a plan:

Double majoring in English with a concentration on creative writing and Journalism.
Minoring in Political Science, Communications, and Women's studies.

The Communications minor could be dropped.
Total, however, it's only 105 hours which means it's doable.

I am beginning to slowly bring things from my room back to the apartment. The great move has begun.

The plan.

Finally, a feasible plan.

This week is my last week of classes. Finals start tuesday, and I am done a week early, on May 3rd. At that point, I will begin moving my stuff to Ryan and Becky's house where it (and I) will stay until May 13th. From there, Becky and I are driving to St. Louis (where my stuff will be for the time being) and spend a few days hanging out. I will fly home the 17th because Mom is stressing that I be home for my birthday.

The only problem is that Ryan and Becky's house is going to be a zoo for the next couple of weeks. Ryan's friend is sleeping in my spot on the couch, but has been nice enough to sleep on the floor so I could have it. I had a nightmare though on Friday, and ended up on the floor too. So that's one sleeping space gone, not to mention more stuff than there already is in that house. The showings start this friday, so we all have to clean this week. Becky has a friend coming over (who will sleep in her room) the weekend that I need to move in.

We officially have to be out of the dorms 24 hours after our final, which is in less than two weeks for me, but the final deadline is May 9th at noon. I am going to do laundry today and sort stuff and then send home a box full of clothes. This should eliminate some of the problems of getting my clothes and such home for the summer.

I'll be selling all my books back, so I'll only have the novels that are currently gracing my bookshelves. As for bags, I am not sure, because I am only traveling home with one suitcase. I also have to figure out what to do with the tv, the iPod player, printer, etc. I have the costume basket as well.
I am thinking that another trip to St. Louis halfway through summer might be in order, if only to relieve Emily's family of all my stuff.

I'm looking at a C and four As, which puts my GPA this semester at a 3.6 which isn't bad. Even if I get a C, two Bs and two As, I'll still have a 3.2, which isn't horrible.

The room here is suffocating me. It is so messy and no one can clean it right now. It finally warmed up this weekend, and I didn't have to wear a coat or a sweater.
Sarah's baby shower was on Sunday. It was beautiful. She got some books and practical things and baby outfits.

I woke up early today. I'm not sure why. Wednesday night on the couch, and Thursday and Friday on the floor definitely meant that I got very little sleep. I ended up talking to the houseguest for a couple of hours and then falling asleep curled up with him. He kissed me goodnight on Thursday, sweetly, and then when we woke up he walked me all the way back to the train for no apparent reason. Very nice. Too bad Ryan has to go to Mizzou next year, or I'd get to hang out with his friends more.

I'm taking down the pictures, and the Christmas lights fell, so that works. The Armani man will have to make a train ride to Ryan and Becky's, there's no way he'll fit into a car. My neighbors are playing really loud music and I am annoyed. I'm already up at ten o'clock, and I dont want to be, but I seem to have lost my phone during the night, and I really can't sleep without it. They always come into our room to tell us to be quiet (even though it's usually just the tv and not our fault that the walls are thing) yet we never say anything to them.

The appeal for the housing contract was denied as well. He offered us a freshman dorm with no AC, no cable, and no kitchens. He told Emily's mom that he was unsure of why we were even trying to get of our housing contract because we chose to live there. Oh, really, so choosing between freshman dorms and that, is he saying that he wouldn't have chosen that? Grrr....I guess I just don't understand Loyola's reasoning. I don't want to be 20 years old and living in freshman dorms. They keep saying they want to foster independence, but what they really want is to foster our dependence on them and in turn they on our checkbooks. It's been a constant buzz on campus. The resentment is still there, even if the anger has subsided. We've all accepted that we have horrible housing next year, and thats that.

Cat is a different story. Is there anyone reading this who'd be willing to take Chase for a year? Emily and I will take him for our junior year when we are finally released from the hell that is Loyola housing. Ryan is moving to Missouri, Becky is going into Columbia's dorms, and Joel doesn't want to keep a cat. He's three years old, very snuggly, not aggressive. He enjoys catnip and turkey. He also likes to eat houseplants and play with bouncy balls. He likes to spoon. Mom hates cats, so that's out. He's so sweet, though, and none of us want to lose him.

I'm still tired. I was going to go to a Jewish art show last night, but Becky and I got lost going, so we tried to go to Starbucks. We saw a spot on the other side of the street, so I jumped out and went and stood in it. A man came by and tried to park there, so I waved him off. He told me to move and I told him it was my spot. He said he didn't care, so I told him that he'd have to hit me first. He proceeded to back up, waiting for me to move, but I didn't. He stopped less than a foot from me and began yelling at me. The woman in his passenger seat told me that they were here first. I told them obviously not because I was the one standing in the spot and that my friend was driving around the block. It continued for some time until I got frustrated at them and as I walked away, (keep in mind this is a crowded, urban street at dinner time. think outdoor cafes, etc.) I screamed an obscenity so loud it probably made their ears bleed. (sarcasm). Becky had seen the whole thing from her car and told me that she had never seen me mad, but that if that was it, she never wanted to. People in Chicago really are the most rude people you've ever met.

Now I'm tired again.

Bleh

Stress.
Registered for classes. 18 hours spread between Water Tower Campus and Lake Shore Campus. One day has four classes over eleven hours with travel time in between.
Communications, communications, english, english, theater, and philosophy.
8 page paper due tomorrow in Communication. Haven't started yet. Am probably going to fail, but if I at least get a C, I'll be satisfied. Isn't that sad? Happy to see a C. I know.
But I did the math, and if I get As in all my other classes (which might happen) I'll get a 3.6 this semester, which is better than last and certainly not horrible.
And if I get two Bs, a C, and two As then I'll have a 3.2, unless my calculations, hastily scribbled on a Chipotle receipt are off. Which they might be. I'm currently in Hinduism, my head cocked to one side, pretending to listen.
Jazz concert at Columbia tonight.
New tenant on the couch at Ryan's. My spot is gone, but he let me have it last night, and he slept on the floor. How very nice of him, really.
Off to watch Good Will Hunting and analyze every little bit of it.

Still no word on getting home. No apartment. Dreams are crushed. Really, does it matter? We should just box my stuff up and leave it on the street and hope it's still there after summer. Who cares?

Apparently, due to lack of financial hardships in my family, I will be expected to pay the lovely amount of $10,000 to live on campus next year.
I hate Loyola at the moment, and am not looking forward to becoming a sophomore.

cross your fingers....

Apartment Hunting, Plays, and War

Last night, I went to see "The Diary of Anne Frank" at the Steppenwolf Theater. It was well staged, although the acting was lacking. Altogether, it was a nicely done play. I found myself face to face with the director of Columbia's Hillel group, who had me read at the Shabbat dinner just before Passover. I'm learning the Hebrew alphabet from Becky, but so far I only have a few letters down from a practice session over ice cream. We got the $28 tickets for free from a family that is generous enough to help support Coloumbia's program. I'd forgotten how terrible it is to look down from a safe balcony and see people acting out the miseries of others. I truly love the theater because the emotions that run through it are intense. In the end, when the Nazis come to take them, the actors came up from a trapdoor in the stage, silently, to surprise the family eating the first strawberries they'd had in two years. The feeling ran through the audience, shared emotions, one for all. I had expected banging, clattering, noise when they arrived, warning the family, a little, at least. Shockingly well done, the end was. Mr. Frank, the only survivor, walks back onstage and begins a monologue of what happened to all the rest of the little company that had huddled in that building for two years.
Oddly enough, that was not the only violence I would conceive in my mind yesterday. I am currently engrossed in "Middlesex" by Jeffery Eugenides, the author of "The Virgin Suicides." I am only 75 pages in, having started it yesterday morning during the sociology lecture about urban studies in Chicago. It tells of a massacre of Greeks in the early 1920s, particularly a family. The details were horrific, of course, as massacres always are, and I began to resent anyone who could kill another human being.
Coming off the train this morning back to Loyola, I grab the RedEye. It's a free edition of the Chicago Tribune, and I attempt to get it whenever I can. The crosswords in it are wonderful. But, climbing back into bed to open it, I stare at the second page. The words "suicide bombing" jump right out at me. Here we are, living in what we believe to be an advanced society, yet we can't stop killing each other. It's disgusting and pathetic, and anyone who believes that any good will come from any unprovoked military action needs to be examined. It's fine for them to quote their Bibles and hate homosexuals, and it's also perfectly fine for them to condone sex and drugs, yet they rush at the chance to "do good" and bring their western culture to places that don't want it, can't use, don't need it. We rush at the chance to kill the infidels, to spread democracy. What is our democracy really? We're doing no good. We haven't been now for four years, even longer. There is no way out, and no one sees that. There is no end to this war, there's no end to the suffering. How long before we attempt to take on another project we'll never be able to win? How long before the bombings start happening in our cities, killing our children? Will they stop then?
I saw "The Machinal" last month at Columbia College, and that's where I am headed again tonight to see "Paradise Lost." "Cinderella" opens this weekend at Loyola, so of course I'll be seeing that. The last play they had was "The Visit," translated out of the German and wonderfully done. I got in for free, because apparently Loyola has some thing where as a student, you get to see your first play for free. Granted, it saved me about five dollars, but that comes in handy sometimes.
The man who sells me alcohol was in a delightful mood last night. As we walked into the little store, he greeted us warmly as he always does, telling us his night was better now that we were there. He was sad, however, because his plants were dying from the cold. We spoke of talking to plants, encouraging them to grow. He told me that I needed to bring all of my plants inside (as if I had any...) and that he couldn't wait for his tomato plants to bloom in the summer so he could tend them in his garden. I can see him now, smoking the cigarette he always smokes, bending over in the garden to whisper greetings to a small tomato tendril. As I type this, I am staring at my sad little bamboo plant, lonely on the heater, reaching for the light next to it. We get the morning sunlight in the room here, which is lovely if you sleep with the windows open. Sometimes I wake up to the sunrise, and am always amazed.
I'm crossing my fingers for the apartment. We went, in the rain, to look at it again on Wednesday. We saw the two bedroom for the first time. It's lovely. It has a front door, giant living room with windows that open to look down at the street (it's right above a grocery store). Right off of the living room is a small sun room, with french doors that could even be a small third bedroom if necessary, but with the rent at what it is, we'd hardly need a third roommate. There is a little tiny hallway that has a bathroom separating two small bedrooms. They each have nice closets similar to the one I have at home. The bathroom has a bathtub and vanity and a toilet, obviously. The kitchen isn't as lovely as the first one we looked at, but the man assured us they were taking extra steps to clean it up. The previous tenants were evicted for not taking care of the place, and it's wonderful to think that it would be even nicer once we move in. The rent is down to $995 per month, which, given the space, is ridiculously low. The building has an iron gate and fence that one must be buzzed into, which gives way to a tiny little courtyard with plants on the sides. The foyer of the building, if it could be called that, it a giant mass of space with a solitary stone table sitting in the middle. Then, you turn left down a hallway, and up a ramp. There is a flight of little stairs, and then (hopefully) our apartment. It's a couple blocks to the train, or 8 to walk back to school, but the apartment literally looks onto Sheridan, which is the same street Loyola is on. We plan on getting window boxes, and candles, and all the random furniture we can find. Emily will sew on slipcovers, and we'll live comfortably.
I wonder if dad would be willing to let me have my futon or my bowl chair. They are both mine, and would make lovely additions to the apartment. My purple rug that Grandma and Grandpa got me for Christmas one year would look nice in my tiny little bedroom, and Mom has a twin bed frame in the basement. That, with possibly the loveseat from the basement, or the recliner, would make excellent living. There is even space for a little table. It's all hardwood, there is no carpet, which would make cleaning easy. There is enough space for closet storage, and if it comes through, I won't have to worry about where to keep my stuff for the summer because I'll have my own apartment.
We'll post it on craigslist, of course, and sublet it if we can, because if not, we're throwing away money. The only problem, however, is that this rent price is too amazing to pass up. The $995 includes heat, gas and water. I can't even talk about it, it's bad luck to get your hopes up.
I shoud be hearing back in the next ten days whether or not we're released. Now, more than ever, is time to pray to whatever god or being you believe in. Please, let fate be on our side.