everyone’s going over the top for this murder! assignment. catharine and amalle made a video documentary about mill girls. ross and blair made a musical. i sang two parts for them this morning: lucretia, sarah maria cornell’s mother, and gossip #2. they recorded four scenes and the whole thing is damn clever.

as for me, well, i wrote a story the other nite when i should have been doing polisci. i could give that in. but i was too inspired by the creativity of others; to measure up, i began writing an epic poem — part Homer, part Browning, part Capital Steps — about smc’s life. if it ends up being awful, i’ll hand in the paper after all. meanwhile it’s fun.

heh heh heh. 🙂 hannukah party tonite at the barn. hopefully i’ll stay awake thru this one.

this is the cutest thing ever: bear hug!. it arrived via liz-at-smith and greeted me in the midst of stat shitwork w/ becca and stef. last nite the three of us met at 8:30, intending to get a substantial chunk of it done. instead we sat at the table, drank moon cycle tea — so reminiscent of home — talking about sex and history and … well, that’s about it but it lasted us six hours. i covered an entire sheet of paper with doodles. the highlight: a angular naked woman with googly-eye breasts and stick-straight-up hair proclaiming, “i live to serve you, phil!” we didn’t get much stat done; by 4 we gave up the pretense and went to sleep. today we worked all afternoon until we finished just a little after five.

i really did kick a pigeon in venice and i really did get shat on. my brother didn’t stop laughing for a week. and i really do want to be fleetingly fascinating. see? sometimes poems tell the truth. (do you like it, darling? it’s only the beginning, you know. just wait til small craft warnings comes out. hehhehheh)

i like how autumnal my recent color scheme has been. i also feel like leaping in circles and shouting for joy because i managed to pull off my polisci paper — don’t ask me how. as of last nite at 1 a.m., i was back in my red mrs. claus pajamas, staring at two paragraphs, one of which was composed merely of question fragments (like “what am i trying to say here?”). this morning, i had class til 12:35 — and the 8 page paper was due at 5 p.m.

immediately after my last class i bolted home, barricaded myself in my room, typed furiously, edited, typed, did some spontaneous new research, typed more and finished by 4. 4!! i had enough time to make a cover page, works cited page, walk over to campus to print it out, and hand it in 20 minutes before the deadline. ross came w/ me and we lingered in the building on the fringes of the history department party to which we had technically been invited but of which we felt no part.

we discussed what kind of people do which kinds of majors, hung out outside valelly’s door watching my fellow class members arrive at the finish line, sweat still adorning their faces, and hand over the paper like a baton. i considered going in right then and asking him to be my major advisor (american studies — he’s american politics — that’s as good as anything, right? plus he likes me; plus he kinda reminds me of my dad.) i didn’t; said a brief, satisfying hello to the triplet, and have been leisurely hanging out at the library since. dinner mit ben next, and then nonstop stat work til 5 tomorrow — but after that, for a while, i can relax again. for a while.

eating vanilla yogurt out of a dish reminds me of being young. my family had a series of young dutch au pairs who fawned over us kids as much as they scorned american chocolate. as proof of their disdain, they supplied us with “real” chocolate, sometimes in the form of brightly-colored boxes of sprinkles that we, delighted, used to decorate our yogurt. after they left we continued the tradition until i read the twits and realized sprinkles could actually be concealed ants. that dented my appetite. besides, native sprinkles never tasted quite as good.

i’m supposed to be writing my polisci paper about why american people believe money is corrupting their public officials. i’m working on my history story instead. of course the history story is due friday and the polisci paper is due tomorrow. i like using one assignment to delay doing another; that feels sophisticated somehow. hey at least i’m getting shit done.

the tarble lady alerted me that i’ll have to use $9 worth of points a day to polish off the number i have left on my card. anyone who’s interested in helping me is more than welcome.

i’m flying high on bubbles of diet coke, erin mckeown, and excellent interactions w/ people. first i had my final For Colored Girls … rehearsal. only three of the actors turned up. one injured her ankle during the dance concert last nite; another is AWOL. but the three who came were beyond words. wow. i can’t articulate it. that rehearsal — mostly two scenes — was the best college theater i’ve seen. it was emotionally real, honest, and unpretentious in a way that makes theater the most personal invasive medium there is. i often forget that; i get discouraged b/c i see so much that leaves me bored or unmoved. partly i think because this material is so beautiful and so direct. it can’t help but get to you. and the actors are wonderful. i started crying twice — maria had to give me a hug. she has the abortion monologue and she’s comforting me.

definitely one of the things i’ve done here that i’m most proud of. i only wish i could see the actual show (february 22 – 23, people. miss it at your peril.)

co|mo tonite at 8 for the first round of hints for Secret Beacons of Light, our nondemoninational nonoffensive answer to Secret Santa. before that, time w/ liz. and i came up with an idea for my history story! oh mercy. pinch me please.

so far the only thing i’ve done affirmatively today is make plans to do things affirmatively later in the week. downloading like mad from audio galaxy. not laundering, sweeping, putting things away, creating a short story/play about the life of sarah maria cornell (if i failed at writing her biography, would should a fictional biography be any easier?) or researching polisci. life offcampus often feels lonely: i envision a cross-section of the barn revealing eight people in eight rooms on each of three floors, working on their monitor tans. i’d call someone but i’ve always had trouble with that. if people want to talk to me, wouldn’t they call me? my mouth tastes like nutrasweet, which in bulk resembles novacaine. it’s raining.

didn’t watch a movie yesterday as per stern instructions to self. did a little hannukah shopping. we don’t have a hannukiah. that’s all right, i don’t think we had one last year. it feels more like we should make an effort this year though. maybe not. who cares. ooh lethargy, you old scoundrel, you; i haven’t seen you in ages; how you been? how’s that guy you live with, what’shisname, apathy? what’s he up to nowadays … ?

why can’t i write poetry anymore?

this weekend is packed. i think my schedule of events shapes up as follows: student dance concert this afternoon (sorelle and joc are performing); boy meets tractor improv comedy this evening; shabbes dinner at ruach as prepared by becca — she’s slaving off five hot stoves as we speak; why war? party tonite. tomorrow: rehearsal in the morning; night of scenes in the evening. sunday: rehearsal til 4; meeting w/ swattiebloggers?; co|mo at 8. in between all that i have to write a story or a play; a short paper; a long paper; and start studying for finals.

i also have to get all my denmark stuff done, including making a last-minute snap decision: do i want to live, as previously stated, in a dorm with international and danish students or with a family? in the dorm, which functions as a co-op, i’d have my own room and bathroom and share a kitchen w/ 14 other folks. w/ a family, i wouldn’t have to take care of my own food needs (that’s a big issue as appliances other than toaster, fridge, and microwave intimidate me to the point of imbecility.) that’s … pretty much the only plus other than built in company. in a house with other people, assumedly, i won’t feel as totally alone as i assume i will, at least initially, by myself in a dorm.

it’d help so much if i were organized. ah well.

the stress is beginning to show on people; people are starting to fray. so far i’m doing all right in keeping things in perspective, i think. i don’t feel overwhelmed.

sometimes life feels delicate and i have to think how lucky i am that i get to experience life that way — that i’m tiptoeing through cathedrals or post-shower forests rather than trudging through bloodpuddles, carrying my own severed arm. or something. that i’m happy and get to write about it. that i get to hold and be held. that my only limitations, besides the common (gravity, eventual entropy, &c.,) are essentially my flaws, not circumstances or handicaps. when it really counted, i’ve never had anyone tell me i can’t do what i want. granted i’ve always tried to keeps my goals and desires modest so as to maintain that trend, but still.

the whole business is intricate and fragile; it could crash down on me at any moment; a thousand things could happen to trip it up, many of which are extremely likely. or maybe just growing up will throw off the balance. who knows. the point is, i’m lucky now, i’m happy now, i’m going to denmark where the only word on the cheat sheet easy enough for me to pronounce is “beer” — either the danes will think i’m an alcoholic or they’ll figure i’m a great sport. (what’s “beer” doing on a list with “hello” “how are you?” “dinner was great” and “help! my arm’s been blown off” anyhow?)

lock, stock … at 12, not 11. hope to see you there. i promise i’ll be more coherent then. in the meanwhile, dinner? QSA? the muslim-feminism lecture? … or *shudder* homework?

skipping stat as we speak. granted i have no right to skip, no reason either. i got sleep. i woke up feeling refreshed and calm, being held like a stuffed animal.

i don’t have anything major to do today; in fact, it’s the height of self-indulgence to skip a thursday morning class b/c after 12:35 on thursday, the weekend begins. somehow though i just can’t muster up the guilt. rebecca and i are sitting in my room, discussing the ancient “state for the jews” or “jewish state” question, which is at least ten times more productive than scribbling down whatever phil scribbles up on the board. (so much israel recently. two good conversations w/ louisa and one w/ susan roth, with whom i left the Offended Jews discussion dinner. she lamented that the leftist partyline is anti-israel so everyone assumes she is and should be. she’s a communist in brightly patched jeans who doesn’t shave, votes green, plays the acoustic guitar — has a folk show, actually –, loves notes from the underground … hell, i assumed she was anti-israel.)