Weekend and Pictures

Emily's dad is in town this weekend on business, so we went out to dinner last night. It was nice to see him and I know that Emily is thrilled.

Here are some pictures that Dad sent me from the Barry family get together before I left for school in the summer.

Bike. Protesting.

Wow. It's been a long week already and it's only Tuesday.
On Monday night, Emily and I were in the basement/bike storage room doing laundry and I realized that my bike wasn't where I had left it. I thought about it for a couple minutes, thinking that maybe I had biked somewhere and then just left it, and returned home after whatever I had been doing. But then, in the corner, wrapped around some bars on the window, I saw my bike lock. It was a long metal chain with loops at the end where I would attach the lock. The chain had been cut, and then discarded in the corner.
I am livid. In a locked room, in a locked gate, in my own apartment building, someone cut the lock on my bike and took it.

Today, for my Women, Crime and Justice class, I went downtown to Loyola's Lewis Towers to hear Lisa Madigan speak. She's the attorney general of Illinois and she hasn't done anything to reopen cases for victims of police torture. (John Burge was a police commander...do you remember hearing about him?) The event required RSVPs and our class hadn't been aware of that, so we stood outside and ended up joining the protesters. We were all yelling and the police had to come and reorganize the group. They ended up trying to gain entrance into the building to go up and get into the speech.
They were from the Campaign to End the Death Penalty and I ended up holding a clipboard and getting signatures from the passerby. It was fun. Emily went with me and took pictures. I'll put them up as soon as the internet will let me. For some reason, it's not working right now.

Weekend.

Recycle, Birthday Cookies, Home.

Emily and I have reached a point where we recycle more than we throw away. And it's not even like we have a giant bin just sitting twenty away from us that we can recycle our stuff into. We carry all of it down three flights of stairs and then out to the car and then drive it half a mile to the recycling center where were unload it into huge recycling bins.
There's no excuse.

I'm coming home tomorrow. I am exhausted. It will be nice to sleep, I think. Tonight, I plan on staying up way too late and being wild. Because it's Thursday, it's the premiere of the new season of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and because it's my friend's birthday.
Sweet.

I had to write my first paper of the year last night, and I'm not altogether sure that I have retained any knowledge of anything.
According to Dave, "information is not always knowledge."
And I think he has a point.

Happy Birthday Aunt Joan!!!!!
Hope you had a wonderful day!

Marijuana. Denver Post Article worth consideration

http://www.denverpost.com/breakingnews/ci_10452384



This is a great article about the problem of marijuana growers in Colorado.


Basically, even though we have legalized medical marijuana and legalized the distribution of it, we have not yet legalized the process of growing it.
Even though the growers have the cards from the patients saying that they are providing a service, the police keep coming in and raiding their spaces, taking their plants and then charging them with felonies.

This has to stop.

No matter how you feel about marijuana itself, you cannot deny that it helps ease the pain that some people feel. Pick the one drug you rely the most on, whether it's ibuprofen or a painkiller or your arthritis medicine and image that someone told you that you are no longer allowed to get it. No one can give it to you. What are you going to do?

It's a plant.

It grows naturally all over Colorado, even on federal land. One of the comments below the article brought up a very valid point: why aren't we focusing on the illegal immigrants, the gang problems, anything else. Why are we going after peaceful pot smoking hippies? Why are we going after people who need this to live happy, pain-free lives?


Think about it. What's worse? A bunch of giggly, possibly hungry patients or guns on the streets?

Why is marijuana a Schedule I drug? Is it as bad as PCP? Absolutely not.
Let's work for change.
Let's not fight weed, let's fight crack. Let's fight meth, let's fight PCP, let's fight heroin.

Seriously, let's all feel alright.

Rainy Saturday

It's been raining here for two days now. It's endless, falling water, cold and green. It puddles in the streets, dripping, dropping, pooling. The cars are soaked, window wipers and lights trailing up the streets.
I've been busy, staying very busy, but somehow, I feel as though nothing is getting done. Everything that has been happening is confusing and wonderful and brings me an idea of how very much alive I am. I live for the moment, nothing more, letting life find me and take me wherever it pleases.
However, I am coming home next weekend, a brief sojourn from the fast-paced life I have created. I sleep very little now, I drink coffee in the mornings, tea at night. My life has become a tangled mess of lovely friendships, book, notes, sleep, work, the constant race to get to class and to get home, to take in everything, every experience that I can.
I tried out for the Loyola Mock Trial team and got a spot! There will be traveling involved, and lawyer-esque dialogue and a lot of hard work, but I do believe that this is a good thing for me.
I love my film class. The teacher is so hilarious and so involved and so very interested in the films and in his job. I love attending that class.
I still hate ballet, but am determined not to let it get the best of me.
I've been babysitting; I enjoy the two families that I've met.

I hope all is well in beautiful Denver!

The Update. September

We left in the middle of a great rain, puddles soaking into our shoes, our hair dripping wet by the time we'd even reached the car, not two blocks away. 8 pm turned into 9, which turned into rain and traffic, great long lines of red lights strung out across miles of the highway. We sat there for an hour, creeping and crawling in that slow mess. We didn't get in until well past two thirty, and fell asleep immediately, cold and damp.
Being there was nice, it's home sort of. Emily's mom made us dinner, a heaping meal of spaghetti and salad. We sat there as she told us that we are a strange couple, finishing each others' sentences, filling in details. We enjoy it, this domestication, the crafting of a little house, carving out a place of our own for the city.
The drive was nice, the report, bad. A bone is moving out of her foot, she may need another surgery. We'll wait and see.
Saturday brought breakfast, a long drive, babysitting. Long hours, cranky child, he decided he would not go to bed, and so I sat with him and rocked him to sleep. It was oddly comforting. He finally fell asleep and all was well.
Then came the party, a night of mayhem to be sure. The boys, as well as the boys who live above them, were throwing simultaneous parties which meant double the fun. Dancing and music and laughter, it was nice. I saw a lot of people I hadn't seen in a long time, and I met some fun new ones. I'm being social this year, and I think it's working...
I'm absolutely terrified of ballet class. We were reprimanded for "disrespecting ballet" the other day because we didn't remember a certain combination. Mind you, this is beginning ballet. We are also expected to do push-ups (the man kind), which is not something that I will ever be able to do and sit-ups as well. I get the idea behind it, but the action of it is intimidating. I stand in class, clad in a black leotard and pink tights, hair pulled into a small little pony tail at the back of my head. I go through the moves, staring straight ahead, pretending not to notice the teacher as she walks around the room, correcting people's postures, their movements, critiquing them. I feel like an absolute failure, and she "won't hesitate" to fail us.
Ah...this is not a happy thing. But I will get through it. But you know, even those in beginning ballet are supposedly athletes and we must be at attention the entire time. It's a unique experience.
The prank war continues, as they answered our prank with one of their own. Revenge is certain.

Article

I found this on The Huffington Post this morning and thought you might like to read it.


"The Worst Vice-Presidential Nominee in U.S. History"
Robert. J. Elisberg

Posted August 29, 2008 | 04:30 PM (EST)



There was a TV ad for deodorant that said, "Never let them see you sweat." The John McCain campaign has just showed the world that it is drenched.

Selecting Sarah Palin as its choice for a vice presidential candidate is perhaps the worst such choice in American History. To be fair, maybe there are worse choices, but I don't know how bad William O. Butler was when he ran with Lewis Cass against Zachary Taylor.

But it's far worse than Dan Quayle, who was a sitting senator. Worse even than Geraldine Ferraro, who at least served in Congress for three-terms. And far worse than William Miller, a choice so obscure when selected by Barry Goldwater that he (honestly) later did an American Express commercial asking, "Do you know me?" And that ad was after the election. But even Miller had been a Congressman for 12 years. And been a prosecutor during the Nuremberg War trials against Nazis. Sarah Palin lists her credits as a hockey mom.

There was a point during the Republican primaries when I was trying to figure out who I hoped got the presidential nomination. Someone so weak he'd be easy for the Democrats to beat, or someone more challenging who at least wouldn't be a disaster for America. I decided on the latter because America has to resolve its serious problems and can't afford risking some glitch where another George Bush got elected. And so I felt that John McCain, for all his weaknesses, was the lesser of all evils and was glad he got the nomination. Throw that out the window. McCain-Palin is an unthinkable disaster.

I completely understand the reasoning behind the decision for John McCain to select Sarah Palin. Absolutely. It's the thinking that settled on Sarah Palin that's missing.

No doubt John McCain will get some women to vote for him who wouldn't have otherwise, and even some independents. But he will also probably lose as many Republicans uncomfortable with a woman on the ticket - let alone a woman with so little experience as Sarah Palin. Not to mention that the choice will cause many undecided Democratic women to be aghast and push them back to following their Democratic beliefs. And further, it will lose all the independents who look at the GOP ticket and say "This is who I'm supposed to give my vote for the next four years to lead and protect America??" It may even appeal to right-wing evangelicals for her strong pro-life stance and get some to vote - but that position and others related to it are specifically what loses even more women voters. And men. Ultimately, the nomination will lose far, far more votes than it gains.

But this is not the reason the decision is so terrible.


It's always said that the most important decision a presidential candidate makes is their pick for vice president. It shows their thinking and judgment. John McCain, in his first decision, has just told the world that he believes Sarah Palin is the most qualified person to be a heartbeat from the presidency. Forgetting all the available men for a moment, if John McCain felt it critical to select a woman in an effort to somehow grab the Hillary Clinton supporters, look at his choice of women he had available: Christine Todd Whitman, Kay Bailey Hutchinson, Elizabeth Dole, Susan Collins, even - for goodness sake - Condoleezza Rice. Or Carly Fiorina. Each of these have marks against them, and perhaps some might not have wanted to run, but it's near-impossible to look at the list and suggest to the American public that Sarah Palin is the best choice of Republican women to be vice president. And again, this is ignoring the men he who could have been chosen.

It's not that Sarah Palin is inexperienced. It's that this is gross political misconduct.

Sarah Palin has been governor of Alaska for just a bit over 18 months. Alaska has a population of 683,000. (Though that doesn't include moose.) This would only make it the 17th most populous city in the United States. Just ahead of Fort Worth.

Before that, she was mayor of Wasilla, Alaska. Population 9,000. I know Republicans like to promote "small town values," but this is taking things to ridiculous extremes, don't you think? I'm from Glencoe, Illinois, population 8,762. It's so small it doesn't even have a mayor, it has an appointed village manager. I'm sure that Paul Harlow is doing wonderfully at his job in the village - but I don't expect that he sees himself as even wanting to be a heartbeat from the U.S. President in 18 months. You know what the top news story is on the Glencoe website? "Fire Hydrant Painting Underway." (To be fair, it's the #2 story. The top news is a clarification about displaying political signage.)

Do you know what the first two "powers and duties" are for the mayor of Wasilla, Alaska? Check their municipal code:

1. Preside at council meetings. The mayor may take part in the discussion of matters before the council, but may not vote, except that the mayor may vote in the case of a tie;


2. Act as ceremonial head of the city;

Swell.

If you live in small town America (and I mean really, really small), look around you and be honest - do you see your mayor (or village manager) as a heartbeat from the presidency in 18 months?

But that's not the reason either that the decision to make Sarah Palin the VP nominee is so terrible.

It's one thing to discuss how unqualified Sarah Palin is. That's a national matter and huge. But on a grassroots political level, her nomination takes away the Republicans' ONLY weapon in the campaign - calling Barack Obama inexperienced. They haven't even been trying to run on the issues, or on the eight-year record of George Bush, which John McCain has supported almost 95% of the time. They've only been running on the faux-issue of Barack Obama's experience of 14 years in federal and state government. Yes, Sarah Palin is merely running for VP, not president, but with a 72 year-old candidate with a history of serious medical issues, this is who they're saying is able to step in as president in a heart-beat. She has so little experience that she makes Sen. Obama look like FDR, Winston Churchill and Julius Caesar combined. So, the Republicans pulled the rug out from under themselves. They have no issues. The economy? Housing? The national debt? Education? The Environment? Iraq? Afghanistan? Nothing. All they have is "Dear Democratic women: please pretend our VP candidate is Hillary Clinton. Just forget that she's pro-life. And against most things Democrats stand for."

But that's not the reason the decision is so terrible.

Because if the hope for John McCain is to get women to vote for him who otherwise supported Hillary Clinton - if anything could get Hillary Clinton campaigning in full force and fury...this is it. She likely would have campaigned hard, but it's in Hillary Clinton's best interest to be the leading voice for women, and the leading woman candidate for president in the future, so having another woman as the potential Vice President (and potential President) is a significant challenge to that. The Republicans just opened Pandora's Box and brought Hillary Clinton roaring to Barack Obama's side on the Democratic train. And Bill Clinton, too.

Yet even that's not the reason the decision is so terrible.

What this does in the most profound and grandiose way possible is give lie to John McCain's pompous posturing that he Always Puts America First. And that undercuts the most prominent campaign issue of his entire career, that everything he does is for reasons of honor. There is nothing honorable about making Sarah Palin your vice presidential nominee. Nothing. Unless you define honor as "blatantly pandering."

But that's not the reason either that this decision is so terrible.

But before we get to that, let's look at the actual announcement to make Gov. Sarah Palin (AK - pop. 683,000) the Republican nominee for president, and put the horrible decision in perspective.

First, John McCain stood at the podium, looking up-and-down reading his speech. It's impossible not to compare that to Barack Obama giving his majestic speech the night before that even conservative analysts were admiring in awe.

Second, the cameras were polite enough to avoid it, but there were empty seats in the gym. It's impossible not to compare that to a stadium of 75,000 people that Barack Obama spoke to the night before.

Third, when people around the nation were waiting to hear about Sarah Palin's qualifications and gravitas to be Vice President of the United States, the first five minutes of her speech were spent talking about her husband being a champion snowmobiler.

Fourth, when she finally got around to her qualifications, pretty much all we discovered was that she fought to cut property taxes. And then, she basically stopped there.

She did, however, mention becoming energy self-sufficient - by talking about how she supported drilling in Alaska!!! Perhaps to Republicans this is being an environmentalist, but to most of America, not so much. Then again, she's also against putting polar bears on the endangered species list (which the government did), so maybe her environmental qualifications are more lax than she thinks.

And then, finally, she spent the rest of her time praising John McCain. Fine, that's very supportive of her...except that the one question on everyone's mind was not -- "can you say John McCain is a swell guy and tell us that he was a POW", the question on everyone's mind was - "Who in God's name are you, and please tell us why you should be a heart-beat from the presidency?"

In the end, the only case she herself made for being on the ticket was praising Hillary Clinton! That's it, period. Now, it might be enough to attract some women -- but it doesn't make a case for the ticket. Why? Hint: some women did vote for Hillary Clinton solely because she was a woman. But most women voted for Hillary Clinton because she was a Democrat, as well as a woman, who stood for important Democratic values they seriously believed in. If Sarah Palin wants to praise Hillary Clinton, go for it. But at least understand what you're praising. Because it will likely come back and bite you.

It was a thin, nothing, empty speech. It was a speech to be head of the Chamber of Commerce. Compare that to the speech by Joe Biden when Barack Obama introduced him. Eloquent, soaring and explaining in blunt detail why John McCain should not be president. Joe Biden must have been watching Sarah Palin's speech, in order to take notes in preparation for his debate with her and thought, "This isn't fair."

And all that's not even the reason the decision is so terrible.

The reason is because the election is not about Sarah Palin. Or about Joe Biden. As much as TV analysts want to be excited by the balloons and hoopla, tomorrow the air will be let out, and there are still over two months to go for the campaign.

The campaign is about Barack Obama and John McCain.

Sarah Palin's nomination doesn't change that. In fact, it reinforces it. Nothing about putting Sarah Palin on the GOP ticket changes a word that Barack Obama said in his vibrant acceptance speech - about himself, about his issues, and about John McCain's repeatedly faulty judgment on the critical issues facing America.

What Sarah Palin's nomination does do is focus attention on John McCain's age. Indeed, the nomination was made on his birthday, when he turned 72, the oldest man ever to run for president. As the crowd sang "Happy Birthday to You," you almost sensed that through John McCain's clenched smile, saying, "Thanks for reminding me," that what he was thinking underneath was "Please, oh, please, don't sing the 'How old are you now?' part." And how good a message was it that he's saying he supposedly forgot it was his birthday?

Vice presidents are usually selected as people who are adept at blasting the other side's presidential candidate, because it's only the presidential candidate that matters. Joe Biden has already done that - twice - at length, spoken as someone who knows John McCain well and likes him. Sarah Palin had her first chance...and whiffed. Didn't even try. And it's hard to imagine what she has in her arsenal that will remotely allow her to do so in the future.

The election is about the presidential candidates. And the selection of Sarah Palin now allows Barack Obama to campaign untouched by the Republican ticket. John McCain's only other option is for himself to personally become negative for two months - which is disaster in presidential politics.

Now add on all the problems expressed above. Sarah Palin's inexplicably laughable lack of substance, most-especially on the foreign policy stage. Her taking away the one issue, experience, Republicans were even attempting. Her pushing away voters who might otherwise be willing to vote for a senator with 26 years in the Senate. Her bringing Hillary Clinton aggressively back into the campaign. Her inability to offer anything to off-set Joe Biden. Her standing as supposedly the most-qualified Republican woman as John McCain's first decision.

And, in the end, it all focuses back on Barack Obama, with his indictment of eight years of the Bush Administration and of John McCain's flawed judgment - and John McCain's defense of all that.

Republicans might be dancing earlier today, because there was a lot of fun music playing. But the music has stopped. The actual campaign has now started. For Republicans, it might have ended.

Vote.

Wow.
Are you listening to his speech right now?
The convention has been awesome (or what I've been able to see of it), and I'm jealous that I'm not in Denver.
Mike called me today to tell me that he was driving down to Denver because he had a ticket for the speech tonight at Mile High.
I am honestly moved. I'm excited for January.
I can't wait for Barack Obama to be the next president!
Do your part: vote in November. Don't forget, don't push it off, don't think about it, just do it.
Change.
Let's make it happen.

School....

I love this city. There is nothing more exhilarating than knowing that you're in such a crowded metropolitan area.
We drive down Lake Shore Drive, surrounded by concrete and people, the lake and lush green parks.
It's a beautiful place, full of ideas and madness. It's chaotic and terrifying and wondrous and lovely all at once.

My class schedule is as follows:

Monday- Ballet- 1-2:15

Tuesday- Social Justice & Communication- 1-2:15; Logic 2:30-3:45; Introduction to Cinema- 4:15-7:45

Wednesday- Ballet- 1-2:15; Advanced Writing: Autobiography- 2:45-5:15

Thursday- Social Justice & Communication- 1-2:15; Logic 2:30-3:45; some sociology class called contemporary society -4:15-6:45

Friday- FREEDOM!

It's 17 credit hours and I'm pretty sure that all of the classes (except maybe contemporary society) will count toward major, minors, and core.

It was an interesting weekend and I am still attempting to get everything in my little life back together. My room is unorganized; I am sleeping on the futon still; the mattress will be arriving on Friday. I am negotiating with two different women about babysitting in the area, one in Evanston and one here in Rogers Park. The children are relatively young, but it's nothing I can't handle. It would be nice to have a steady stream of cash and not have to be tied down to any certain job.
I need to bring my grades up this semester, and logic seems like it's going to get me pretty hard. It's not something I understand to begin with, and the teacher is about as exciting as....there are actually no comparisons.
But film class seems exciting. The professor is super psyched to be teaching the class and the films that we'll be watching seem exciting.
Who knows. Ballet is not going to be fun. I was informed that looking bored (one of my specialties) will result in a lower grade. Well great. This seems interesting.

haha, happy fall semester 2008. It promises to be wild and terrible and lonely and wonderful and crazy and funny and mind-blowing (both intellectually and life changing). hopefully in a good way.

Emily is wonderful. The roommate thing is great. We are so compatible.


UPDATE:::
I just did out all of the calculations, and to graduate with a major in Communication Studies and minors in Women's Studies and Gender Studies, English and Journalism, I only have to take 13 (possibly 14 with the CORE curriculum, depending on if my credits transfer from Metro) more classes.
That means that I will graduate on time! And, I will get to take more classes in the communication field. But yay! I take five to six classes each semester, so these can all be accomplished by spring semester 2010. Yes! I actually had no idea if everything was going to fit in when I scheduled things this semester, but ironically, it all fits perfectly and counts.

Pictures of the apartment....finally

Well here it is: my humble home. I'm sorry it's messy. I may have found a place for my car over the winter; I found a garage sale in an alley right next to my house that looked like it didn't have any cars in it and I put my number down for a possible garage spot. Wouldn't that be wonderful?!
I used Grandma Mary's beaters from the 70s today. We made the cookies that she sent. I'm super domestic, I am realizing. I love to cook and just hang out around the house. It's nice. We've made steak and mashed potatoes, salads, corn, cookies, bagels...everything. There's a sense of organization to it all, it's gradually coming together.
We stole the boys' Mr. Potato Head (a.k.a. Spider Spud) and have been sending ransom notes all day via picture message. I may upload them at some point because they are clever.
We start school tomorrow. I only have one class tomorrow, Ballet.

Still sleeping on the futon....

We finished cleaning, scrubbing, mopping, sweeping, slowly doing the dishes, dusting, packing, putting all of it away and then we sat down for a second and admired our work. It looked nearly the exact same as it had before the cleaning had begun.
We broiled steaks and made salad and mashed potatoes, Fredie would be proud because we didn't even use the instant ones.
Cookies and milk followed with a favorite tv show. And now preparations are underway to embrace the night, merriment and friends, hopefully new friends too, a Loyola party with old Loyola friends.
I switched my classes around for the simple selfish reason that I want to have no classes on Fridays. And so it is that way. I will post it later; it seems impossible and none of them are regular classes, they switch days and times and float around and it feels like I'll never know exactly when I need to be somewhere.
The phone has been ringing nonstop. I get the reason behind the no-call list now.
All is quiet.
I am exhausted, life is something best lived at full throttle yet it's always a pleasure to just sit and be.

We made a large Costco run. No going to the store for anything except milk, eggs, bread and fruit until all of it is gone.
We'll see how long that takes.

Peace to all.

Also, I am probably a better parallel parker than you. There was a bad day that involved me bumping three cars and since then, it has just happened beautifully. Emily gets out and guides and when I step out there are mere inches between me and both the cars that I am sandwiched between and there has been no impact. It's amazing. Self-esteem boosting, oddly enough.

Fruitypants is at college. And too busy to call me back. But I'm excited for him. I cried for a second last night because Mom is all alone and Mike is all alone and I am too, sort of.

things.

I had my interview at the cupcake store today, and I think it went well. They told me that they'd pass along the word that they liked me. I was funny and charming and attractive, but not too much. Hopefully, I will be great counter help.
Also, I heard back from a Craigslist ad that I posted asking the community if they needed a babysitter, so that is looking promising.
My computer has viruses, so that'll be exciting. It shuts down every now and then in an attempt to save its data.
Awesome.
Life is strange.

Cupcakes.

I have an interview tomorrow at a cupcake store tomorrow at noon, so let's hope that it goes well. I don't know what to wear. Probably a skirt of some sort. It's downtown, so I guess I should expect a posh cupcake store? In the email that I sent them offering myself as a cupcake servant, I said: "I'm not sure if this is a plus, but I enjoy cupcakes." Which will hopefully be rewarded. This is my first official job interview in four years, well, technically forever.
I've been sending emails out left and right about getting other jobs, one being a recycling intern, crisis hotline worker, morning student supervisor, Jewish library assistant. Who knows what will come of this.
The mattress and frame arrived today, sans box spring.
The cleaning is never done, the room is not organized, nothing is together, but that's fine.
First laundry experience might happen today. But I need quarters.

... & the city

And everything is alright again, in one swift motion, or perhaps a pretty afternoon. I sat with an old friend on the balcony and looked around and realized that life is like this. It's strange and terrifying and absolutely wonderful.
Last night, Emily and I watched a foreign movie and just talked about everything. It was comforting.
I went to sleep and slept well. Things still aren't together, and that's alright. It doesn't have to happen today, or even tomorrow. It can happen whenever; it's not going away.
I walked outside my building today and saw what looked like a large sign of garage sales. Families, selling nothing worth having, really. It was sad and thrilling at the same time. To know that three stories below me someone else is trying to make a life and is only hoping to succeed in supplementing their income is a sad thing, but strangely exciting at the same time. You don't see that at home. It's strange to be in such a different place culturally all the time without having to leave the city. It's a cluster of different neighborhoods, different ethnicities, different mentalities, different values and ideals, but it's home. It's Chicago.

Sadness, for the 3rd time.

Being here is hard for me, for some reason. I'm alone, again, even though I have Emily. I miss home, Denver, Danny, Mom.
It's a challenge, something I certainly wasn't expecting. I've been thrown off, completely. My days are empty. I'm exhausted all the time. I'm finally eating again, which is probably a good thing. I find myself disconnected.
It's going to be rough, starting this whole life thing all over again.
Maybe once school starts, things will settle down a little bit.
Every year gets harder; I have no idea why. There's nothing left for me in Denver, really. What would I do? Stay at Dairy Queen and let my chances at life bleed to death? No, please, not that.
I'll stay here and take my chances.
The ending of the relationship is something I never thought I'd have to take to heart; I never am the one that gets hurt, but this time, I can't even comprehend it. I'll take my time, and let myself be alone and comfortable with that, but if things don't start to get better, I can always get back together with him.
I'm going to concentrate on school, concentrate on trying to form new friendships (yikes!), and then try and let things fall into place.
I just can't force my life to happen, and for now, it's in a lull and I think the lesson here is that I have to be okay with that. I have to be self-sufficient and capable of being alone, facing long hours by myself. I can do that. I can work on the things that are wrong with me. I can be a better person. I can try and be social, try and meet new people and do new things. I can do all of this, given the opportunity.
I need to find a job.
I need a day with no tears.
I'll be alright, I think.
There's no turning back, not now. We're too far in.

Pico de Gallo

Sally Mulqueen's favorite color is yellow. She crochets blankets in her spare time to help children (and niece and nephews, as well). She drives a white Toyota Avalon, digs hiking and pictures of wildflowers and gets along with Fruitypants (remarkably).
Tomorrow is her birthday. On her calendar that hangs on the side of her refrigerator there is a little thing that you should do each day. Some days it's smile, or do something you love, or cook a good meal, but tomorrow it should say: Call Aunt Sally and tell her that you love her.
I wouldn't be here (in my beautiful and slightly strange Chicago apartment) without all of the work that she does to help me and Mike. Aunt Sally, thank you.




One time, at Chili's on State street.....
Aunt Sally, this pico de gallo is for you.
Happy Birthday!

Home

We arrived, straggling in on the edge of distress, driving manically, desperate to sign the papers.
Keys in hand, we marched through the iron gate, through the doors, up the stairs, up the stairs, up the stairs, up the stairs. Home. There we were. Ours.
We locked the bikes in the basement, we hauled things through the back. Tired, limbs shaking, we sat, two broken families finding consolation in our smallest triumphs, sipping liquid from the local 7-11 and conversing amid the piles scattered everywhere.
The dollar store, cheap purchases adding up, buying the things that we knew we'd need.
A quick shower, finally!
Dinner, guests, late night discussion.
Things wound down, wound up and all around, the night air lifted the curtains and blew them toward our sleeping forms.
We are home.
It's ours and we love it.

Safe in St. Louis.
Leaving early tomorrow (7am) for Chicago.
Will let you know as soon as I get internet set up how things are.
Mike and Mom are in Omaha.
Love.

Good Support

I couldn't have these wonderful adventures if it wasn't for the people around me that genuinely care about what I'm doing.
Getting coffee the other day, the barista asked me when I was leaving and told me he'd miss me. At the good old DQ (which I am done with, by the way!!), customers wished me well and told me they'd miss me.
I've got three sets of grandparents: Grandma Mary, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Al, Juanita and Marshall to make sure things go okay.
I've got Aunt Sally helping to figure out all of the Loyola payment issues.
Fruitypants is the hired muscle. (I can't really think of anything else....just kidding, I'll miss him a little too)
Dad bought me a bike rack.
Mom and I have done the packing thing, we've been to Target, to Costco, everywhere.
The people that I babysit for gave me extra money that they most definitely did not need to give me because they wanted me to do well and they appreciate that they can leave their kids with me and not have to worry. (The fact that they are super right wing makes this even better because it shows that it's not just the liberals that dig me.)
I never realized how awesome it is to be able to have a dessert party or a dinner with family. A lot of people don't get to do that all the time, yet even at school, I"m reminded that people care with little packages, usually containing baked goods, usually around finals. (Aunt Sally, that one's all you).
Mom even gets around to doing stuff like that, sending me the highly anticipated Birkenstocks and not telling me that they were in the mail so I would be surprised.
It's little things, a card from Grandma Mary with a little saying that she found on the internet or something.
Uncle Mike and Brian "hauled" me (and my stuff) out to Chicago, making a crazy road trip and I'll never forget that.
Aunt Jan is always there with fun girlie stuff that Mom disapproves of but then uses in the end (haha, the Clinique bag has yet to be picked over, so good timing there).
You guys are great, really, and here's the big thank you you weren't expecting but wholly deserve.

THANK YOU!


That was it? It meant more than it looked like, I promise.

But seriously, knowing that you have this great network of people who want to help you is pretty nice.


Also, too many people run red lights.
Simon is getting his oil changed today.

Gone.

We're getting ready, steadily moving forward, changing the plan. There's been a lot of yelling and frustration about something that should have been simple. It's hard for me to part with my stuff.
I find myself most content when I have less, yet I have this compulsion to always have more. It's a fact; it's not a habit; it's something I cannot yet change. Maybe as I ease into adulthood and come into being as my own person, I will be able to forego the material and embrace the singular ideal of life without clutter.
Remember when Mom and Dad got divorced and Mike and I lived out of duffel bags? I have decided that this is where my need for stuff comes from, the idea that perhaps I won't have something for a few days, the idea that someone else will take it and I'll never see it again, the idea that I'll be somewhere and not have what I need with me.
It's odd.
The new, revized Plan Z is this: Mom and Mike are leaving Denver at noon on the 7th. I leave before them, in the early morning hours. We meet in Chicago on Friday afternoon, sign the lease, hand over ridiculous amounts of money, open the doors to my new life and then settle in. Then they leave.
It's great, really. Hopefully this will eliminate the need for a.) shippping and b.) plane tickets for Mom. Maybe we will save money, maybe we will not. At this point, it's not about that anymore. It's about the fact that all of this is happening in four days.
I can't wait.
I have things to tell everyone, things I have mulled over and over.
But the thing I have to tell you is: I want to go abroad. I want to pack a bag and then just leave. I would like that very much.

Let's embrace what we have left of everything.

One week.

of course, I'm not ready.

Two weeks from tomorrow.
For now, however, the crows are back again, and for that, part of me is eternally grateful. The backyard is full of birds.

There's nothing to reinforce your knowledge that life is a gift like driving past a graveyard late at night when the moon is full, half yellow and shrouded in cloud-like mist. Your life is so directly contrasted with the lack thereof, and you thank whoever you will for it.

Chicago, again.

It's begun.
The mad packing.
The house is awash in laundry, piles of random things, calculators, paper, boxes, clothes, etc.
The living room is Mike's.
The dining room (and of course the inevitable spillover into the halls and family room, etc.) is mine.
I'm stoked, seriously excited.
Nervous, obviously.
Freaking out, the usual.

Running.

We're living like it's never going to end.
That beautiful bubble we've created, the one we never want to leave, pops in three weeks. August 7th, summer ends and the rest of my life begins. A chapter is closing. Two summers, one very long winter, and so many tears and laughter, late night run ins at Burger King, countless drives to Red Rocks, concerts, snowboarding, drives to Frisco, ZooLights, Botanic gardens, cuddling, Wii, movies, Stellas, hot tea, hot chocolate, walks with the dog, driving around, loud music, soft music, dancing, plane rides, fights, that contentment of knowing that someone loves you unconditionally: all of this ends in 21 days.
Of course, a new friendship will rise out of the pain of separation, but what we feel right now cannot be duplicated. I cry sometimes, little tears seeping out of the corners of my eyes when I don't think he's looking. But he is. He knows. It's hard to let go of something you've grown so close to. I'm not crying because I want it to continue, I'm crying because I'm afraid to lose it.
We've been off now since April, broken up but not far from together, and I'm not quite ready. I never am. Every relationship ends with a period when it's not but still is.
And this is it.
When I talk to Emily, or see my boxes in the hall, or imagine myself walking down Michigan Avenue again, I get that sense of excitment, a little ripple through my stomach. I'm excited. I'm excited in a way that I haven't been in a long time. I want to go back. Nothing more than that. I want to have my own room, my own place, sitting in chairs with my best friends, laughing or talking or doing whatever may come of it all.
I can't wait to start over, to get that second chance at Chicago that I never thought I would. I promise, I'll embrace it and find myself a life that I could only have dreamed of.
I'm running from the past, running toward the future, no disconnect between the two, tears, I'm sure in both places. I'll have to take Mom to the airport and put her on a plane, and I'm sure I'll cry then; it'll be official. But then I'll turn around and face the city I've grown to love and everything will be alright.

I'm off. There's no turning back.

Hindsight is 20/20

I've been thinking lately.
Thinking too much and not doing enough.
I keep waiting for my life to begin. I rush around, stressing myself out about different things, always trying to carve a little bit of time for myself, which I end up not using wisely and then I am stuck with more stuff and more chaos than I ever intended for myself or my life.
I work, work, work, so hard, as many hours a week as I can get at Dairy Queen and then the babysitting job on the side. I spend long hours for little pay and now I have nothing to show for it. I owe my mom money for the car, which I am so grateful to have, but I can't seem to get ahead. I have no savings for next year. I did the math in the early spring, figuring out how much money I could make and save for next year, keep as my rainy day or alcohol fund. Nothing. Zip. Maybe two hundred dollars if I'm lucky for myself.
No shopping. No new shoes. Nothing to replace the box of clothes and shoes that disappeared in the move in December. We're certain of that now. Gone. Something is missing, and we're not sure how to find it. I was so relieved to get home that I didn't check the little packing receipts that I had, making sure that everything had been delivered. Now, six months later, no, seven, I am without pairs of shoes that I hold dear, without certain clothes. And here I am with no money to replace them. I'm not going naked, that's for certain, but I definitely haven't been able to do the shopping that some of my friends can do.
I stress out over little things. Do I really need new clothes? Part of me says, no, not at all, but there's that other part that is moving back to Chicago, where the elements of style are slightly different than they are here in Denver, a little more refined, fancy, dress to impress, business, etc.
I am sick, now too. Mom and I made our way to Urgent Care yesterday with my intensely swollen lymph nodes. They're fine, they tell me, I just need rest. Ha.
The lease arrived today via email. Now, we have to figure out a plan. I don't have a plan and that scares me. I need to start packing, need to find a way to get this all figured out, need to find a way to somehow be in two different places at once (Denver and Chicago) so that I can get my life settled in both places.
Time is running out.
Last night, I realized that Danny and I have less than a month left of hanging out. The lease on my apartment starts in less than three weeks. I asked for Sundays off, but that's lame because there aren't very many of them left. There is no time.
I'm scared. This is the definite end of some things and the definite beginning of others and I'm just not quite prepared. I need a plan, and we don't have one. All of this is expensive and to find the cheapest way to do it is not something that's going to come easily.
Ah. And I wonder why I'm sick. I'm out late every night, doing the same thing, haunting the same places and yet I feel as though I'm so busy. I wake up early, sleep a little later if I'm lucky and then do the whole thing over. Entirely.
What if I ship all of my boxes out there again and everything gets messed up? What if they lose all the boxes? What if we can't come up with the rent money? What if we get evicted? What if? What if?
I don't have the tools necessary to build a life, we're working on collecting them. Working on a lot of things.


"We're getting closer, maybe farther."

So true. Not only is my source of income ending, but a few of my relationships as well. Katie and I have grown apart lately, more so than ever before, and I think that both of us are okay with that. She's moved on to bigger and better things, sorority girls and the like, and I've just settled into myself a little more. Danny and I are well aware that this is the end of the relationship that we've dragged out for too long. We left it for the summer, a fragile bubble of hope, and the bursting is about to happen. There's love there, but not enough, and the wrong kind. I genuinely care for him as a friend, however, and I am going to miss having someone always there for me when I needed anything. Dad and I had a better relationship over Christmas break, but over summer, there's been a disconnect and I just don't know that it will recover at all. All of the effort that I made to overcome the past has been smashed to pieces and will only continue as long as I am in Denver. Mom and I are tense as well, though not irrevocably so. I'm stressed that she doesn't see certain things as a priority and she's thinking about other things as well. This move is stressing her out, understandably so, but I don't think she wants to make this work. (She does).

At times, I'm so very happy and at other time, I'm just so miserable I can hardly keep the tears in my eyes. This isn't good right now. I'm losing so many things, gaining so many other things. I'm just not ready for all of Denver to end for me. I'm scared that Chicago will be intense and hellish and I'm not sure I'm ready for all of it.
What if I can't find a job? What if I don't get straight A's? What if?

None of this made any sense, I'm sure, because I'm about to switch gears and tell you all how excited I am to have my own place. I can't wait to cook in it, to have my own space, my own living room, closets, a bedroom. I can't wait to move in and to see it. I can't wait to have all of my stuff set up in our apartment, I can't wait to live with Emily, I can't wait to get everything settled and get back into the routine. I can't wait to go to the beach, to drive up Lake Shore Drive, to get Portillo's and have everyone over for a housewarming party. I can't wait to drink cheap beer, to try and eat healthy on a budget (not so easy as it sounds), I can't wait to go back to classes and see all my friends. I think that will be the best part. I'm nervous.

Text taken from Internet

FOX has gone over the line--using racism, prejudice, and fear to smear Barack Obama. Join over 428,000 people in signing the petition today! Click here:
http://pol.moveon.org/stopthesmears/?rc=fb.fox

The petition says: "FOX must stop injecting racism, prejudice, and fear into our political dialogue. We intend to hold FOX, its advertisers, and its personalities accountable for FOX's attempts to smear the Obamas."

Click here to sign the petition -- then tell your friends about this group:
http://pol.moveon.org/stopthesmears/?rc=fb.fox

This petition will be hand-delivered by a big group to FOX's headquarters--in front of other media, so FOX feels the pressure.

Here's what happened this past month: First, a paid FOX commentator accidentally confused "Obama" with "Osama" and then joked on the air about killing Obama. Next, a FOX anchor said a playful fist pound by Barack and Michelle Obama could be a "terrorist fist jab." And then, FOX called Michelle Obama "Obama's baby mama" -- slang used to describe an unwed mother.

FOX won't stop until it becomes too painful to continue—until the public calls them out and advertisers start getting worried.

Click here to sign the petition--then tell your friends:
http://pol.moveon.org/stopthesmears/?rc=fb.fox







***I found the above text on Facebook and I wanted you to check it out. Regardless of whether the petition or any of the action that they say they are going to take is true, I feel like it was worth mentioning.

Deer.

First off:

Gas cards save lives.

Grandma and especially Aunt Sally, summer would not have happened had you not been there with those little envelopes I've come to love. So this is my lame thank you, on the internet, heartfelt nonetheless.

Also.

The lymph nodes in my head are swollen. I don't feel good. I'm exhausted. I hate my job, my manager, the uniform...everything.


On one of the rare days that I get out of work before midnight (this time at 6), Danny and I went up to Red Rocks to see the sunset. It had been one of those marvelously hot days, but the clouds had rolled in and there was no sunset to be seen. We decided instead to just hike around for awhile while there was still light in the sky.
As we were hiking, we came to this rocky place where the trail obviously stopped. Since it's Red Rocks, you are forbidden to do any climbing, which is of course the one thing you really want to do. There, maybe fifteen feet in front of us, across the rock, was a deer. I stopped and we spent a few seconds looking directly at each other. Danny, behind me, whispered, "Don't move," and we stood there as the deer came closer and closer. I waved, some lame attempt at trying to communicate my own fear and the fact that I wasn't going to harm it. It came closer still. We walked back, and it went parallel to us for a minute, before finding some apparently delicious shrubbery.
We saw five deer that night. Little babies with their mothers, one jumped out of the bushes not five feet from us and nearly gave me a heart attack. Another was eating grass by the side of the trail and we almost passed it before it jumped away.
There were some bunnies, too, but seeing the deer that close was amazing.
We made it to the car right as the sun had dropped beyond a preferable level of light and we headed home.
7/11/08

Working for the man.

I'm late for work, again, but that's nothing new.
Things at Dairy Queen are hardly tolerable, but then again, I wake up and think, God, I really need this money, so I go and I work. I rarely get shifts that end while there is still sun in the sky, and this whole getting off of work at midnight thing is starting to wear on me.
Danny is really the only person I've been hanging out with, and he starts work at eight every morning. By the time he gets off work, I'm usually at work, which gives us the night to hang out.
It's frustrating. My manager won't honor any schedule requests and our cleaning lady is out for awhile, so we are left to manage ourselves (as usual) with the added task of cleaning every night.
Since the robbery, we close at ten thirty, meaning that if we're lucky, we leave work by eleven thirty. If not, midnight.
These are the times I sincerely wish I was rich. They are few and far between, but not having to work until midnight seems like a pretty sweet deal.

Aunt Sally has begun the fall collection; white dishes in a box. I am excited now, more excited than I was before. I can't even wait to have this as my own place. My own room, for the first time in a long time at school. A kitchen, tables, chairs.
Fun.
Fall semester is shaping up.

independence

Are you proud to be an American?

Summer in Pictures

Muse

Dark sky, half moon gleaming above it, guides me home. Steering the bright lanes of the highway, windows down, I think, music turned up to distract me. There was so much to say then, words spilling somewhere, gushing. Somewhere in the translation, the words end, confused and garbled in the night. Here is my basic fear: that I will never be able to form my words into thoughts, to create something tangible and real. But then again, I think that this is the beginning of something different, and entirely new part of this life. I intend to think differently about it, waiting for it to happen and then embracing it. I mean, it might work out. Who knows?

The final leg.....

For every high, there is an equal yet completely opposite low.
I cried from Kansas City westward for a good hour, letting tears spill down my face with my windows rolled up. I sped past the trucks, other vehicles no doubt wondering what was happening inside that speeding steel box.
We left in good spirits, hugs all around, our belongings packed safely in the trunk. The weekend, which had begun with such a passion, although angry, had ended so well, smiles and my own feeling of contentment at spending a weekend curled in that space with the people I never thought I'd love the way I do.
We sat in St. Louis, sipping on white wine and watching the movie that Emily starred in last year, "American Gothic," I got a text message. One of our friends was hospitalized for the reasons that no person should ever put on themselves. My addled mind failed to wrap around it, until the next day. Things have settled down now, but there is still some sort of unease in the air. I can't explain it, don't want to. But I never thought that this sort of thing would be something I would ever have to face. It's not real, I kept telling myself, this isn't happening. But it was. It did.
The drive home was beautiful.
Exactly 866 miles in exactly 12.5 hours. Three stops. Rain at the beginning and at the end. I turned the music up and rolled the windows down. I wasn't exactly excited to come home, or to leave St. Louis, or even Chicago, but it was finally nice to get home and raid the fridge.
I'm garbled right now. My life is once again on the cusp of something new and different, and I can't even wait for junior year to begin.
Emily and I can't wait to start our new lives together.
Let the highs and lows (hopefully few) begin.

Summer in the City...

Even though the air has a chill to it, the apartment is still hot. Two couches, a card table, end tables, oddly spaced lawn chairs and bits and pieces of our various lives are scattered on the floor. A single lightbulb illuminates the room, casting a pall of darkness into it. The air is silent save the sound of gunshots echoing loudly from the television screen, the only source of noise in the otherwise still room. Blankets and pillows, remnants of the houseguests and various tenants of the quiet building on the street, such a quiet little oasis next to an industrial yard. Waking up in the morning, planes from Midway pass overhead, their jet streams searing sound into the air around the house. Pigeons stalk the balcony, the ever present battle for the grounds that have been theirs since before the boys moved in only a year ago. And yet, this has become like a second home to us, sleeping on the couches and in the beds, sleeping wherever there is room in an at times packed house. The shower is cluttered with our bottles, mingling with theirs, our pink towels, blue, and theirs brown and red. We drive to the beach, play football in the rain, run into the freezing cold waters of Lake Michigan, spend the nights living hard, partying for no reason other than the joy of the company that we share. Card games, laughter, the jokes speed out anew. We are for some reason caught in some strange bubble, with nothing left to hold us back. Two of us sat at the train station, on a crowded street, parked with our hazard lights on, blowing bubbles into the streets of Chicago. A cab driver passes, smiles at me and then asks me if he can have some. We smile, waiting for someone else to join this motley crew. We eat fresh cherries bought at a market on the South Side. We drive the streets, intermingling with the horns of angry drivers and the frustration that I feel in traffic. But there is nothing like the sight of Lake Michigan on your right and the city on your left as you drive up Lake Shore Drive, the epitome of the Ferris Bueller-esque ideals that perhaps we still hold on to. Waking early, we sought the addresses that we had penned earlier, scribbled notes in crayon on a used piece of paper. The phone rings, and the realtor is on the other end, begging to show us the house of our dreams. And we answer, there, arriving a moment late but not quite. She shakes our hands and then we begin the tour, our hearts melting a little at the sight of the quaint two bedroom apartment that I cannot wait to have my name signed to. And so, the adventure continues........

Roadtrip: Part 1

The alarm clock went off too soon. It was set for five a.m. Tuesday morning. The sun was barely peeking up, pink light overwhelming my eyes. I rolled over and slept until six.
I finally got on the road about seven, seven thirty after the obligatory gas refill somewhere on Colorado Blvd.
From there, it was no stopping until just outside of Limon, when I received a ten minute reprieve from the road courtesy of a Colorado State Patrol officer who issued me a warning. I had seen him coming up behind me and just pulled over before he had the chance. I think he appreciated that. I got a "Colorado State Patrol Official Courtesy Warning" for going "five to nine miles per hour over the posted limit."
He was a nice dude, so all went well.
I stopped for fuel before entering Kansas.
I stopped for fuel in the middle of Kansas.
I stopped entering Missouri.
I arrived thirteen hours after leaving my house.
It was nine fifteen when I pulled up in front of the Bates' household.
The sunset was absolutely beautiful. It pushed me through the last good hour of light of the drive. Behind me was the glowing orange sun, set in pink clouds, and ahead of me was the full moon, large and low in the sky.
Emily hobbled out of her house on crutches and we hugged.
We spent that night doing the usual....slept late yesterday morning. Had dinner. Went and visited her dad. Sophisticated, sort of. We watched John and Kate Plus 8 while waiting for him to get home and then we all shared a bottle of wine.
Got home. Stayed up with friends. Locked my keys in my car. Fished them out with a hanger or two. Felt incredibly productive. Slept in.
Emily got her cast off today.
And we are leaving this afternoon for Chicago. late start however, it's already 2:15 and we are not even close to leaving.
ah, summer.
This was a good choice.

Road Trip

I leave tomorrow on the twelve and a half hour journey that will end in Saint Louis. From there, on Friday, we progress to Chicago.
Apartment hunting (for real, this time).
Fun with Emily.
We shall see how things go.

7th Avenue. Late

Two people, up ahead in the bike lane, hold hands, walking slowly. They're quiet, whispering maybe, maybe silence is the only thing between them. A biker rides past and they shift, she is suddenly uncomfortable with the bike lane. It doesn't feel right, she thinks, walking in the middle of the road. She is reminded from a scene in a movie. No cars pass. He reassures her that everything is going to be alright, and she smiles, and moves in a little closer to him.
The world is empty, waiting for them to get to their destination. Off in the distance, trees bend and sway in the wind, cars drive off to their destinations, sirens call out urgency, but for this street at this moment, things are quiet, even and restless all at the same time.
It's like day, she thinks, as her eyes adjust to the night, with more shadows and more peace. There is nothing to fear, she thinks. They walk on, not stopping at the empty intersections, stop signs begging motorists to end their increase of speed.
They walk. It's quiet between them. They walk on. Her sandals hit the ground, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.
It's late. The lights of the convenience store beckon, almost unwelcome in the night. They enter, swiftly, then exit the same. They are headed home now, carrying their purchases between them. The quiet is the same. The night is raw and beautiful. Come tomorrow it will have been forgotten for the happenings of another busy day.

Loyola again.

Summer is here and gone, almost.
We're halfway through June already.
I leave next Tuesday for the drive to Saint Louis. From there, we have no plan except to end up in Chicago for awhile and then back to Saint Louis. Emily was supposed to get her cast of the 17th, which is the day I leave, but instead, she'll have to keep it on. We'll have a wheelchair for her, so that will make things interesting and hopefully easier in Chicago.
I registered for classes. My schedule looks like this:

Fall 2008: 17 Credits
Monday:
11:30-12:30 MWF
ENGL 362 Studies in Poetry (3 credits)
Dumbach 228

1-2:15 MW
THTR 111 Introduction to Ballet (2)

Tuesday:
1-2:15 TuTh #3977
CMUN 227 Social Justice/Communication (3)

2:30-3:45 TuTh #2087
PHIL 174 Logic (3)
Damen 238

4:15-7:45 Tu #5293
CMUN 222 Introduction to Cinema (3)
CS 400

Wednesday:
11:30-12:30 MWF
ENGL 362 Studies in Poetry (3)
Dumbach 228

1-2:15 MW
THTR 111 Introduction to Ballet (2)

2:45-5:15 W #4558
ENGL 310 Advanced Writing: Autobiography (3)
Damen 237

Thursday:
1-2:15 TuTh #3977
CMUN 227 Social Justice/Communication (3)

2:30-3:45 TuTh #2087
PHIL 174 Logic (3)
Damen 238

Friday:
11:30-12:30 MWF
ENGL 362 Studies in Poetry (3)
Dumbach 228

It's not great, but it's not horrible and it's more credits than I need. I'm majoring in Communication (declared), and then minoring in Journalism, English and Women's Studies. The pickings for classes weren't great, especially since it's now June, but I didn't do so bad.
I'll be back sometime before the end of June. The drive is going to be intense, so we'll see how the car does.
I was going to maybe live in the dorms as a backup option, but they've already put someone in the room that I was going to occupy and now they're telling me there's a waiting list or something. Also, apparently, I should have turned in a housing contract. I enjoy this time of the year, really. No one is capable of telling you what you need to know until it's too late.
So, the apartment search, which had died off with the idea of dorm life, is back on, full force.

What if?

What if there is no such things as happily ever after?
Is it so wrong to think that there might be?
You want someone to love you unconditionally, for everything you are, and you want to love someone the same. What if it's one way or the other? What if there is no middle ground? What would you choose?
I can't tell which is worse...
***
As soon as I can get the pictures loaded, you can hear all about the vacation. And the getting home. And the sun. And everything. It was nice.
But now back to reality and back to the planning.
My next movement will be to St. Louis and from there, Chicago. I am mulling over visiting South Dakota this summer to see Lise.

Sitting in the car, headlights off, I watched the rain hit. Hit and then bounce up toward the sky again, falling over and over back to earth. Damp cold settled into our bones, causing the heat to be turned up.
Today dawned chilly but after little balls of hail had decided they were no longer welcome, the sun took over.
We talked on the phone today. "It's lonely here," she said. And I agreed. If this is what life will become for me, the endless agony of work stretched in between sleep, I would rather run as fast as I can in some other direction. Instead of hoping for the impossible, dreaming of things and people I can't have, I'd like to not have this life, but instead trade it for the one I always wanted, never thought possible, in dreams, make them reality, but changing the way I act and do, speak and think, and then one day, maybe I'll be in charge of a life I'd like to be living instead of this one that includes the bills and the torture and the endless cycle of work, sleep, work, sleep, no laundry has been done in weeks, nothing cleaned. I work my way around piles, and care so little, because there is no point in the organization. No point to the stuff, to the bother, to being on time.
It's refreshing to no longer care, yet heartbreaking at the same time. The end of summer cannot come soon enough, with its change and hopefully new scenes and faces. I hope for the one constant, I dare not speak aloud, and keep my fingers crossed that fate will look upon me kindly for once.

"Time and chance stand still for no man, or woman." -Karleen Koen

Lighting.

Spring is ushering in summer, hot and cloudy, full of temper at being roused so early. The storms will cease eventually, but for now, the colors of the afternoons are the colors that people only dream of seeing.
Purples, golds, greens echo through the line of sight, and the browns sink into the dark clouds, strange lighting finding peace in the twilight.
I've been struggling to get ahold of my emotions lately, time is just speeding right on by. I feel like I just moved home a month ago, and here it is, May.
Danny coming back has been difficult. We're trying to be friends, but the whole love thing is getting in the way. He doesn't understand why I don't love him anymore, and I can't explain that I just fell out of love the way that I was in love with him. There's a friend-love there, but not a love-love, and that distinction is hard to make.
The excitement of being in Chicago has worn off, but I never realized how much I missed it until I went back. Now, my sole focus is the end of the summer and getting there. Getting there. Back to Chicago, land of cold winds and cold hearts, Loyola, and free-flowing liquid delight. Let's go. Let's go. I can't wait. I don't know why. It'll be a fresh start. Hopefully.
And then I'll be able to get on with my life and feel alright again.

Summer

And so in the warm rain we ushered in the summer, a little early, never too late.
I sat there, in the dark basement I've watched change since we met, and was at home. We talked of old days and of the new, there is no amount of time that can come between us when we are not just summer friends, closer when May approaches June.
The drive home, in the cool night air, windows down, music up, was immense. No other cars on the road, just me and the night, speeding slowly home. I set the cruise control, just for fun, so that I could just be in the night. I was sixteen again, fresh with ideas, taking the turn to the song, letting the music take me elsewhere.
The lights in Denver have begun their countdown, a simple way of informing pedestrians of their impending restriction, and at night, the countdown simply hits zero and reverts back to the little light man walking. I found myself timing it so that as I drove, I'd be crossing the intersection as the change occurred, the ultimate end leading back to the same beginning.
There is nothing better than the promise of summer, no matter what life is holding for you at the moment, standing outside in the night and smelling the air will change your life. Floral scents intermingle with the city's hot fresh air and the animals of the night seem to be more alive.
We saw a skunk mosey past, on his way somewhere fast. As I drove away into the night, rolling down the windows, I passed the skunk again, still running, still on the street, getting somewhere.
We're all getting somewhere, even if we have no idea where we are.

Wal-Mart Prank.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=YAvspZ16pFQ

Mom is so in love.

Blue Album.

You cant resist her.
Shes in your bones.
She is your marrow, and your ride home.

You cant avoid her.
Shes in the air.
[in the air]
And in between molecules of oxygen and carbon dioxide.

Only in dreams, youll see what it means.
Reach out our hands.
Hold on to hers.
But when we wake, its all been erased.
And so it seems... only in dreams.

You walk up to her.
Ask her to dance.
She says hey baby, I just might take a chance.

You say its a good thing.
That you float in the air.
[in the air.]
Up where theres no way I will crush
Your pretty toenails into a thousand pieces.

Only in dreams, youll see what it means.
Reach out our hands.
Hold on to hers.
But when we wake, its all been erased.
And so it seems... only in dreams.

Only in dreams.
Only in dreams.
Only in dreams!
Only in dreams!
Only in dreams!
Only in dreams.




That song sums it all up. I want to be back in Chicago with the people that I love.