Today Brandon (the boy who's moving into my lovely apartment) called today to ask if he could move a few things in early. My official day to be gone is tomorrow, and they're moving everything else in tomorrow. So him and his crazy uncle started moving a few things in: his couch, bed, a table.
But now that they're gone and I'm sitting on a lonely mattress surrounded by other people's stuff, I'm really sad. I can't believe that the time has come for me to move out. Jen and I spent a lot of time in this apartment napping, partying, hanging out, getting frustrated with each other and then making up, turning ourselves into pirates and Sandy, dancing, dressing up as siamese twins, cooking food... And now I'm sitting here all alone knowing that I need to get up, move the rest of my stuff, and clean the apartment up for the last time.
For many of you this post may seem overly dreary, but this is the last college place that I lived in. Once I move out of here, it's official; I am no longer a college student rooming in a quaint apartment with my best friend. In just a day, this won't be my apartment anymore. Soon I will take my last shower, get dressed for the last time here, clean for the last time.
It's sad. I'm sad.
By the way if some of you are thinking, why won't this stupid girl shut up about moving out of her apartment? Its not that big of a deal. Well, this is MY BLOG AND I CAN WRITE WHATEVER I WANT TO.
I just called Jen sobbing my eyes out. Thank God for her and good friends. Tonight we're going to order food and eat a last supper in our apartment. I can't wait!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
grandparents
The picture of the two people kissing directly to your right is my grandparents. We call them Oma and Papa, they're German.
The picture was taken August, 1971 in Texas.
It might be my favorite picture of all time. Or at least for right now.
The picture was taken August, 1971 in Texas.
It might be my favorite picture of all time. Or at least for right now.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
grown up
Being a grown-up is hard sometimes. I have to wake up early for work; I've recently been working 9-5 everyday. I have to make life decisions. I have to pay for my own bills. I have to move out of the apartment that I love. I don't have a tan. I don't nap as much as I used to.
But then, once I come home from work at 5 I have nothing to do! Its so great. I can just watch TV, lay around, clean, hangout with friends, etc. No homework or studying. That's my favorite part.
However, the fact that I'm getting older and won't be attending school in the fall is really starting to hit me hard now that I'm moving out of my apartment. Many of my friends talked about moving home from school and how they were dealing with their feelings, but I couldn't relate at the time. I didn't really deal with all of those post-graduate feelings when I graduated because nothing changed: I remained living in the apartment that I had for all of senior year, I kept working at the same job, and continued hanging out with the same set of friends. Its that strange feeling where I want to be strong per usual, but then deep inside of me there's this inkling to just break down, cry out, and really deal with all my feelings. But I'm not that deal-with-your-feelings-cry-on-a-shoulder type of girl, so I doubt that will happen.
I'm not sure I'm ready to be a grown-up; I'm still a kid. I'm not sure I'm ready to take care of myself for the rest of my life or have a multitude of responsibilities on my shoulders. Well ready or not, here I come!
But then, once I come home from work at 5 I have nothing to do! Its so great. I can just watch TV, lay around, clean, hangout with friends, etc. No homework or studying. That's my favorite part.
However, the fact that I'm getting older and won't be attending school in the fall is really starting to hit me hard now that I'm moving out of my apartment. Many of my friends talked about moving home from school and how they were dealing with their feelings, but I couldn't relate at the time. I didn't really deal with all of those post-graduate feelings when I graduated because nothing changed: I remained living in the apartment that I had for all of senior year, I kept working at the same job, and continued hanging out with the same set of friends. Its that strange feeling where I want to be strong per usual, but then deep inside of me there's this inkling to just break down, cry out, and really deal with all my feelings. But I'm not that deal-with-your-feelings-cry-on-a-shoulder type of girl, so I doubt that will happen.
I'm not sure I'm ready to be a grown-up; I'm still a kid. I'm not sure I'm ready to take care of myself for the rest of my life or have a multitude of responsibilities on my shoulders. Well ready or not, here I come!
artsy fartsy
Many times I find myself wishing I was more artistically inclined. To be able to paint or draw is a beautiful thing in this world; to be able to define your inward feelings in a tangible way when words just aren't enough.
I stumbled across this artist during work while trying to find artwork to accompany some of our poetry submissions. Check her out: Angela Davis Fegan.
Here are my favs:
Pair
Brooklyn Dream
Pattern Piece
Untitled
Enjoy!
I stumbled across this artist during work while trying to find artwork to accompany some of our poetry submissions. Check her out: Angela Davis Fegan.
Here are my favs:
Pair
Brooklyn Dream
Pattern Piece
Untitled
Enjoy!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
shwayze
I'm sure many of you don't know who Shwayze is. Songs you may know by him: Corona and Lime, Buzzin, Polaroid. He is amazing; his music makes me want to move to a beach, become a bum, grow some dreads, and smoke weed all the time (even though I don't smoke).
Jen and I love Shwayze. She loves the actual Shwayze (Aaron Smith) and I would die a perfectly happy person if I ever got to meet his musical partner, Cisco Adler. We listen to their music all the time, may or may not have created a youtube girl coverband sensation of them, and saw them perform last October with LMFAO. So, this past Friday Shwayze was performing at Enclave, and we HAD to go. We started out the night at Japonais where some millionaire Welchmen bought us endless strawberry martinis, yum! Then, they wanted to head over to the Viagra Triangle so we split ways: they headed to The Hunt Club and Jen and I jumped a cab to Enclave. Shwayze's performance was amazing, per usual. But after his show is when our night got interesting...
Jen and I immediately ran up and got a picture with him; the only picture his security people allowed him to take before they wisked him away. But before he left, Jen walked alongside him (his arm around her) and asked where he was partying after. He told Jen he was going to go over to Cuvee and that we should come! So we did, duh. We sat with him at his table, drank off his bottle, and danced with him. We thought our night couldn't get any better...UNTIL he invited us back to his hotel room! Yes please. We then proceeded to get into a vancab with him. There were seven of us in this vancab when some crazy lady announced that this was 'HER CAB and we all needed to get the F*** OUT'. Well Shwayze wasn't having that and started to argue with her. Of course, Jen jumped to his rescue and started arguing with her too, announcing that the girl didn't even have designer jeans on. (Who does Jen think she is?!) The lady began to list off every brand name she was wearing, annoying. Finally, her boyfriend pulled her out of the cab but not before she could call the three of us girls, "Walmart bitches."
Eventually we made it back to his hotel, partied until 5am, and finally sauntered home. I think it's safe to say that this night was one of the best nights of me and Jen's lives. It was the epitome of the perfect night for us. Maybe next time he's in town we can do a repeat =)
Jen and I love Shwayze. She loves the actual Shwayze (Aaron Smith) and I would die a perfectly happy person if I ever got to meet his musical partner, Cisco Adler. We listen to their music all the time, may or may not have created a youtube girl coverband sensation of them, and saw them perform last October with LMFAO. So, this past Friday Shwayze was performing at Enclave, and we HAD to go. We started out the night at Japonais where some millionaire Welchmen bought us endless strawberry martinis, yum! Then, they wanted to head over to the Viagra Triangle so we split ways: they headed to The Hunt Club and Jen and I jumped a cab to Enclave. Shwayze's performance was amazing, per usual. But after his show is when our night got interesting...
Jen and I immediately ran up and got a picture with him; the only picture his security people allowed him to take before they wisked him away. But before he left, Jen walked alongside him (his arm around her) and asked where he was partying after. He told Jen he was going to go over to Cuvee and that we should come! So we did, duh. We sat with him at his table, drank off his bottle, and danced with him. We thought our night couldn't get any better...UNTIL he invited us back to his hotel room! Yes please. We then proceeded to get into a vancab with him. There were seven of us in this vancab when some crazy lady announced that this was 'HER CAB and we all needed to get the F*** OUT'. Well Shwayze wasn't having that and started to argue with her. Of course, Jen jumped to his rescue and started arguing with her too, announcing that the girl didn't even have designer jeans on. (Who does Jen think she is?!) The lady began to list off every brand name she was wearing, annoying. Finally, her boyfriend pulled her out of the cab but not before she could call the three of us girls, "Walmart bitches."
Eventually we made it back to his hotel, partied until 5am, and finally sauntered home. I think it's safe to say that this night was one of the best nights of me and Jen's lives. It was the epitome of the perfect night for us. Maybe next time he's in town we can do a repeat =)
Friday, July 16, 2010
poetry
I work for a company called Hektoen, an online medical humanities journal. We have recently contacted many people with a call for new and better submissions. As a consequence of this, we have received a flux of poetry in all of our inboxes. So on this Friday afternoon I have spent my time reading a multitude of poems written mostly by doctors; an outlet I think they all need. I have loved so many of them that I can't just keep them to myself. So here are 3 of my favorites:
Balloons, by John Vanek
My son's best friend, six years
in remission
leaves the pre-prom party, comes to me,
puts a hand on my shoulder,
sits, says I look sad.
I tell him I'm fine,
cloak my deceit
in a throaty laugh,
ask why he's not
inside flirting.
Joes just shrugs, as if he has
a lifetime of time, says
he's spreading his wings, soaring
to Florida this fall for college.
His smile warms the cold Ohio spring,
refills my deflating middle age
with the lightness of possibility.
Then he's gone--
back to the party, worrying about
finals, graduation, prom night.
Three years later, his friends
gather in an early April drizzle, each
clinging to the string of a helium balloon.
Mine is red, my son's is green,
Joel's Mom's is blue.
When the eulogy ends, we let them go,
bleeding all color from Ohio
into a polka dot sky.
I guess I'll always see
those damn balloons
and his smile in my mind until
the sky dons a polka dot rainbow
for me.
I hug my son, afraid to let go,
afraid he'll float away.
Conception, by Ron Domen ( I shortened this one a little because it's very long )
It is important to know the stories
that surround our conception.
But leave out the part about the hormone
surge that expands the cumulus cells
surround the zona pellucida
and prepares the egg for fertilization.
I would rather know if there was passionate
love-making in the back seat of a Ford
at a drive-in movie the rolled up windows
made opaque from your steamy breaths.
And don't go into detail how sperm
must fight their way through fibrous
macromolecules in cervical mucus
to get to fallopian tube fimbria
where the egg awaits fertilization.
Tell me about the gibbous moon
that rose above the swell of waves
on your honeymoon beach
and like sea turtles hatching
out of the sand and making their way
back to salt water I too
started my journey there on the sand.
Another Found Poem, by John A. Vanek
Christmas lights of red and green
twinkle on the monitor,
flash pulse and pressure, proclaim
the baby in this crib will live
for now.
My gloved hand hovers above the only vein
on his hairless scalp, 'til the butterfly
needle finds courage to land,
and I tape the tube to sallow skin
that wants to tear away.
Blue fingers fist with the whoosh
of each breath, as bellows fan
this fading ember--a warm blanket
and a mother's sleepless song,
gifts for the newborn child.
She huddles with her husband as if cold,
his blue blazer now her shawl, limbs and lives
entwined, nestled forehead to forehead,
exchanging a dialysis
of toxic hope.
I want nothing more
than the sleep of a silent night
filled with dreams of places
other than here, heedless
of her cradlesong.
In this strawless manger of sorrow,
below a fluorescent star, I wonder
how to tell this couple
the baby they never could bear
will be gone by New Year's.
I fiddle with knobs, gauge
how much they understand,
snatch glances meant for each other,
stare at my blood-spattered shoes, then
tell them--
and all is lost
but these words
and the haunting hum
of a mother's
never-ending lullaby.
Balloons, by John Vanek
My son's best friend, six years
in remission
leaves the pre-prom party, comes to me,
puts a hand on my shoulder,
sits, says I look sad.
I tell him I'm fine,
cloak my deceit
in a throaty laugh,
ask why he's not
inside flirting.
Joes just shrugs, as if he has
a lifetime of time, says
he's spreading his wings, soaring
to Florida this fall for college.
His smile warms the cold Ohio spring,
refills my deflating middle age
with the lightness of possibility.
Then he's gone--
back to the party, worrying about
finals, graduation, prom night.
Three years later, his friends
gather in an early April drizzle, each
clinging to the string of a helium balloon.
Mine is red, my son's is green,
Joel's Mom's is blue.
When the eulogy ends, we let them go,
bleeding all color from Ohio
into a polka dot sky.
I guess I'll always see
those damn balloons
and his smile in my mind until
the sky dons a polka dot rainbow
for me.
I hug my son, afraid to let go,
afraid he'll float away.
Conception, by Ron Domen ( I shortened this one a little because it's very long )
It is important to know the stories
that surround our conception.
But leave out the part about the hormone
surge that expands the cumulus cells
surround the zona pellucida
and prepares the egg for fertilization.
I would rather know if there was passionate
love-making in the back seat of a Ford
at a drive-in movie the rolled up windows
made opaque from your steamy breaths.
And don't go into detail how sperm
must fight their way through fibrous
macromolecules in cervical mucus
to get to fallopian tube fimbria
where the egg awaits fertilization.
Tell me about the gibbous moon
that rose above the swell of waves
on your honeymoon beach
and like sea turtles hatching
out of the sand and making their way
back to salt water I too
started my journey there on the sand.
Another Found Poem, by John A. Vanek
Christmas lights of red and green
twinkle on the monitor,
flash pulse and pressure, proclaim
the baby in this crib will live
for now.
My gloved hand hovers above the only vein
on his hairless scalp, 'til the butterfly
needle finds courage to land,
and I tape the tube to sallow skin
that wants to tear away.
Blue fingers fist with the whoosh
of each breath, as bellows fan
this fading ember--a warm blanket
and a mother's sleepless song,
gifts for the newborn child.
She huddles with her husband as if cold,
his blue blazer now her shawl, limbs and lives
entwined, nestled forehead to forehead,
exchanging a dialysis
of toxic hope.
I want nothing more
than the sleep of a silent night
filled with dreams of places
other than here, heedless
of her cradlesong.
In this strawless manger of sorrow,
below a fluorescent star, I wonder
how to tell this couple
the baby they never could bear
will be gone by New Year's.
I fiddle with knobs, gauge
how much they understand,
snatch glances meant for each other,
stare at my blood-spattered shoes, then
tell them--
and all is lost
but these words
and the haunting hum
of a mother's
never-ending lullaby.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
alma mater
I can now officially say that I have a college alma mater. Crazy.
Today I was over at a friends house, mainly because she has air conditioning and I don't. So during these 90-degree heat waves, it seems like the perfect time to hang out at her place. Anyway, she was at work and I was rather bored so I decided to go for a walk on campus. I love my campus, I really do. It doesn't seem real that I won't be coming back here for classes in the fall. I wish I wouldn't have taken my college career for granted while I was here. I wish I would have actually studied because I studied this past year, and I LIKED it. I wish I would have spent more time doing college-associated things on campus. So many wishes...
I may be a huge creep once classes start and walk around with a backpack on pretending like I'm supposed to be there. Maybe sit in on a few classes.
This post is now overly nostalgic and creepy. Enough.
Today I was over at a friends house, mainly because she has air conditioning and I don't. So during these 90-degree heat waves, it seems like the perfect time to hang out at her place. Anyway, she was at work and I was rather bored so I decided to go for a walk on campus. I love my campus, I really do. It doesn't seem real that I won't be coming back here for classes in the fall. I wish I wouldn't have taken my college career for granted while I was here. I wish I would have actually studied because I studied this past year, and I LIKED it. I wish I would have spent more time doing college-associated things on campus. So many wishes...
I may be a huge creep once classes start and walk around with a backpack on pretending like I'm supposed to be there. Maybe sit in on a few classes.
This post is now overly nostalgic and creepy. Enough.
things i hate
1) This heat. This weather is absolutely ridiculous. Last night at 2a I could not fall asleep for the life of me, despite the fact that I had to be up for work in 6 hours. Why you ask? It is so godawful hot in my apartment that it is impossible to fall asleep. It's just uncomfortable. It reminds me of being in Morocco during 100D weather with no fan and no window in my bedroom. Not to mention that I don't have air conditioning and I constantly have 2 fans running, so my electric bill is going to be astronomical.
2) Old people. Actually, I should elaborate -- old people DRIVING. Don't get me wrong, I love old people. Really, I do. If you know anything about me, it's that I tend to ogle the elderly when they are holding hands, dancing, eating by themselves, etc. I would love to volunteer in a home, but its kind of pointless now since I may be moving in the next month or so. Anyway, back to what I hate about them. At some point old people shouldn't be driving. Honestly it's just dangerous for them and everyone else on the road. I understand that it may be taking away from their independence, but wouldn't it be worse for them to get in an accident??
Yesterday I was leaving the grocery store and I was pulling out of my spot. I was 3/4 out of my spot when the truck behind me, without looking, started to pull out of his spot too. So I honked my horn. The driver happened to be a really old man who couldn't hear that I was honking. I was laying on my horn and he just kept backing up. I hurriedly pulled back into my spot to avoid an unnecessary fender-bender in the parking lot of Jewel.
3) Grocery store checkout lanes. (this trip to the grocery store yesterday was particularly traumatizing) The store has 15 checkout lanes AND ONLY THREE ARE OPEN. I would just head over to the self-checkout lane, but there are at least a million people in that line. It's so annoying. Jewel, can't you just pay a few more people minimum wage and open up a few more lanes? It won't kill you. But your lack of checkout efficiency might kill me.
2) Old people. Actually, I should elaborate -- old people DRIVING. Don't get me wrong, I love old people. Really, I do. If you know anything about me, it's that I tend to ogle the elderly when they are holding hands, dancing, eating by themselves, etc. I would love to volunteer in a home, but its kind of pointless now since I may be moving in the next month or so. Anyway, back to what I hate about them. At some point old people shouldn't be driving. Honestly it's just dangerous for them and everyone else on the road. I understand that it may be taking away from their independence, but wouldn't it be worse for them to get in an accident??
Yesterday I was leaving the grocery store and I was pulling out of my spot. I was 3/4 out of my spot when the truck behind me, without looking, started to pull out of his spot too. So I honked my horn. The driver happened to be a really old man who couldn't hear that I was honking. I was laying on my horn and he just kept backing up. I hurriedly pulled back into my spot to avoid an unnecessary fender-bender in the parking lot of Jewel.
3) Grocery store checkout lanes. (this trip to the grocery store yesterday was particularly traumatizing) The store has 15 checkout lanes AND ONLY THREE ARE OPEN. I would just head over to the self-checkout lane, but there are at least a million people in that line. It's so annoying. Jewel, can't you just pay a few more people minimum wage and open up a few more lanes? It won't kill you. But your lack of checkout efficiency might kill me.
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