a new pattern!

i alternate between leaving unpleasant events 2/3 of the way through and having anxiety attacks. the two are not unrelated: whenever i’m in the clutches of something that doesn’t engage at least half of my attention, i begin to perspire and palpitate about all the work i will never get done.

the worst part is that there’s no day i can look to when it will be over. at graduation you only trade honors/grad skool/job search/future/thesis anxiety for Future anxiety. with a capital Future. at some point, eventually, i imagine, there will a lull, some time when i have a new residence, new occupation, when i can spend thirty full minutes without gnashing my teeth about What’s Going to Happen. but without being able to mark that point on a calendar and work to it, i’m in my own personal idea of hell, walking down a corridor towards an EXIT sign that never gets closer.

there is no bright side. bunnies with bow-ties really aren’t that hilarious. no, wait, i’ll think of one.

okay: my hair hasn’t started falling out yet.

i’m in requited love.

i was contacted by columbia for an interview, which seems to mean i made some cut.

i’m seeing eternal sunshine of the spotless mind on friday.

the odds are i will get through this (however indeterminate) period, because i’m healthy and sturdy and, as charlotte reminded us on the last episode of sex and the city, we’re jews! we’ve gotten through worse than this.

dilemma of the day

in order to be best (semi)prepared for my seminar this evening, should i spend the next few hours (a) slogging through more of the incomprehensible theory reading, or (b) trying to track down the movie we were supposed to see which is AWOL at the library?

this supersedes the dilemma of yesterday, wherein i tried to determine how much time i would have to spend on a paper i started to write 8 hours after the due date.

sobering thought: my parents are paying a lot of money for this education.

hilarious thought: bunnies in bow-ties!

hold me closer, tony danza

i had an unexpectedly southern day today, a day of bible and sports, despite the fact that ben and i landed safely back in non-southern territory yesterday afternoon. by this evening, we were in the least southern place on earth, swarthmore pennsylvania, eating vegetarian food and watching almost famous, but for a few brief shining moments i felt those stars and bars.

it began: over an incongruous breakfast of bagels’n’lox and kugel in my very own kitchen, my mother, my brother adam, ben and i argued “the passion” until the only feasible option was for me to disappear into a puff of smoke and reappear with the holy book in hand.

a table near the front of the holy book said was today’s selection was deuteronomy 23 – 25 (which includes the creepy/profound quote, “the children shall not be put to death for the sins of the fathers, and neither shall the fathers be put to death for the sins of the children. each man shall be put to death for his own sin.”) to warm up, i began to read aloud. then i moved into more relevant territory, that of jesus according to matthew.

we made it through the relevant passages, and some interesting stories, in each of the four. we stopped midway through john, the last, because by that point my brother, sufficiently chagrined at how guilty indeed the gospels made “the jews,” had become involved in the umd-duke game.

the umd-duke game ultimately absorbed all of us, cuz it was so darned exciting. i felt somewhat torn, rooting for maryland for being the underdog and the local team, and for duke, a little bit, because i was just there and so, so surprised at how cool chapel hill and carborro were. (seriously! warm, offbeat, leftish, and full of small indy 2nd hand stores and short buildings and cheap gas. two out of the three movie theaters we passed were showing “the passion,” it’s true, but one was also showing triplets of belleville and that was delightful.)

coming back to college is. well, difficult. there’s a lot to be faced and i don’t feel quite up to that, to tell you the truth. i am very brave about the potentiality about being rejected by every skool to which i applied. i recognized that risk when i only applied to the top. i am somewhat brave about the fact that i don’t have a job or a plan for next year. i am kinda brave about my upcoming film projects, and just brave enough about my honors exams, and that’s the sum total of my courage, distributed. if you have any to spare, i’d appreciate it.

don’t panic!

nobody worry about me. i’m currently soaking up sun in north carolina with my b.lov’d who swept me up on his way back from europe and whisked me down to durham. his godmother is giving us the royal treatment, making us quiche with fresh cream, buying us 15 different varieties of whole foods cheeses, giving us the run of the place.

at the moment, i’m not worried about anything in particular. aside from consistently turning the wrong direction, we’re doing fine.

0 and 2

no university of washington for me. i admire their efficient use of email. and again, it simplifies the potential eventual choice. but. no seattle.

the 5 i have left to hear from are all private skools. somehow i doubt they will be more lenient in their admissions processes. ah well. i can only hope they too turn to email to let me know.

the voice of god

no wonder kevin smith chose this man to play megatron in dogma. the film as it evolved on screen (as opposed to in its original form) may have been disappointing, but alan rickman was not. when is he ever?

this reverie brought to you by robin hood: prince of thieves. i hadn’t seen it since, oh, say 1990, and if you haven’t either i heartily recommend it, if only for alan rickman’s over-the-top self-parodying sheriff of notingham. i would choose him over kevin costner six times out of seven, even with that greasy hair. he’s reprising the greasy hair look in the harry potter flicks, as well as his *siiiiigh* smarmy charm.

he steals the movie the same way tim curry steals the three musketeers from chris o’donnell, an exemplary case, to be sure, of taking candy from a baby. the real question is, between tim curry and alan rickman — the two most spine-tingliest voices in the english speaking world — WHO do you choose?

epidemiology

this week’s vocab word and 3x cooler than ‘etiology’ or ‘ontology.’ no, i don’t promise that i spelled any of those words right.

two of my wonderful high skool friends just left my house where, by the way, i am. back in dc. eating price club cookies, lox, cheese, and fruit the way you only can in my kitchen at all hours. watching any channel of tv you want. why oh why do i ever leave?

oh wait, i remember. family drama. at least it was novel to have something else waking me up at 7:30 besides my body saying “go check your mail!” but i am very happy to be home. in fact i’m sad i don’t get to spend more time with my family this break. one brother is in florida. my dad’s about to depart for new mexico, to settle a case he filed 36 years ago. my mom’s currently with my other brother en route to rochester, ny.

however, today my mother insisted on buying me an awesome communist jacket. “red china” via ralph lauren.

low-grade flu

of the soul. no iowa for me. no hide and seek in cornfields, no overalls, no chance that i will live in the midwest in the foreseeable future. the letter kindly informed me that out of 368 applicants, they chose 25. i idled away time in my subsequent class trying to do the math: 1/16 or thereabouts? no matter. no funny vowels for me. no blue eyes. no best poetry program in the country, and it’s okay.

6 to go.

vs.

at INDIE CONCERTS, people stand. at FOLK CONCERTS, people sit.

at INDIE CONCERTS, the average hair length is two inches or up. at FOLK CONCERTS, the average hair length is two feet and down.

at INDIE CONCERTS, everyone is pale. this is also true of FOLK CONCERTS.

girls who attend INDIE CONCERTS are slightly taller than those who attend FOLK CONCERTS.

people at INDIE CONCERTS wear sneakers. people at FOLK CONCERTS wear birkenstocks.

these are not STEREOTYPES. this is something grander: glib, under-researched TRUTH.

BLARGH!

out of impatience cross-bred with proactivity, i started calling graduate programs today to find out when they sent/are sending their letters. and i had two heart-attacks to learn that answers from two of my skools, both which mean a lot to me, will be making their way to the mail room in the next couple days.

i can’t seem to calm down. if this turns into a panic attack, i could take my sedative stuff, but then i’ll fall asleep for sure working for the friends library this afternoon. i think the solution is for someone to hit me over the head with an anvil and when i wake up, in several days, tell me briskly how my fate has been decided.

i am still a worthwhile person. i am still a worthwhile person. oh why oh why did i apply to graduate skool in the first place? why am i hyperventilating for the opportunity to write poetry in corn fields, or, as the case may be, cambridge?