I ride the train, and I ride it AFTER DARK, kids.
I am in Chicago, where all is good. The dorm room, the people, the profs (or at least their little Core description speeches - it's only Orientation Week), the architecture, the city... even the food. Things work here. I fit here. People are crazy and friendly and hyperactively excited about books and math and obscure world music.
Today I skipped my French placement exam, because a) it was optional in the first place and b) I'm not taking French but I AM taking another language. I went to Citibank but my bank account isn't open until tomorrow, so boo. I went to the Barnes & Noble/campus bookstore and bought 3 cheap books and a few dorm essentials. I saw Jon there, and he and I went to explore the exciting region of the Bartlet(t?) Mart thingy, where they sell groceries. Then we found Connie and ate an impromptu lunch (I was still full, but hey). I feel the need to make the aside that Bartlett has the most amazing campus food ever. Anyway. I then got the most expensive Kashi I will ever purchase, but that was fine because it'll last a while. I also noted that the Bart Mart has Sour Patch Kids in ladleable form. This will probably be important in the future.
THEN we went back to the dorm so poor Jon could finally drop off his fan and I could fridgerize the milk I got for my Kashi. And we went onward to our first registration meeting, and I got my course booklet. There's another one tomorrow morning.
Tonight was the B-J "Master's Reception", which involved looking semi-formal and eating catered dinner & dessert, listening to a very short address given by our Resident Master, and then going into the Judson Lounge to watch an African tribal drums thing. Which actually become pretty hoppin' once we started dancing. Not that anyone really knew how to dance to tribal drums. But that's not the point.
Last night was pretty great - we went out to the ImprovOlympics in northtown (near Wrigley Field) and watched a comedy show. Or three, more precisely. I will go to Chinatown with some people soon, I hope, and I'm looking forward to it.. we took the train straight through it and it looked wonderful.
I love Chicago. The school and the city and the people. And everything in between.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Friday, September 15, 2006
T MINUS ZERO.
My manic feelings are best portrayed through the Of Montreal song, "The Party's Crashing Me":
you're such a mystery
i just wanna stand and stare
nibble on your ear
and smell the ocean in your hair
i know you damage me
you leave me tangled in a knot
but when you reappear
i see neptunian blues that eyes forgot
neptunian blues that eyes forgot
still i only feel alive when the VU is flashing
alarms going off in my head
i want to grab you and just kiss you
maybe i should sit down
no sense in catching us now
yeah i only feel alright when the VU is flashing
and bombs going off in my head
i want to grab you, want to scream at you
no icing you down
the party's crashing us now
the party's crashing us now
Monday, September 11, 2006
Four days now....
Longest summer break EVER. I'm starting to feel like I'm still in high school, and I'm staying home sick. Probably due to the little kids on the playground that I can hear at recess, all their disjointed little voices reminding me faintly of 4th grade, and the damp September sand from the morning dew, and trying to get the good swing. Those memories are all a part of staying home sick. And then there's the isolation. And watching television at noon, mostly VH1 shows on Awesomely Bad Celebrity Hair and 41 Cheesiest Music Videos and other inane list shows. My head is full of silly string.
You'd think I might savor those memories, but actually they just really make me want to leave. So does that freaking recorded organ music from the Methodist church that goes off every 12PM and 6PM for 15 minutes at a time. I'm so sick of that.
It's weird, during the day I'm SO ready to leave, but really late at night I start to feel kind of scared. A little like subdued panic.. just because I won't have strings tying me to anything. Like Pinocchio learning to walk on his awkward wooden feet without his puppetmaster. Where would he go? Right now that sounds terribly ideal, refreshing, liberating - but at 2AM, it feels scary. But of course, 2AM is not a time to be trusted. It puts emotions on cocaine.
So now I'm just waiting. Reading One Hundred Years of Solitude, which is good, but complicated. Taking 6-8 allergy pills a day, trying to keep my lately hyperactive sinuses in check. Drinking chamomile tea. Studying calculus (seriously). At least I'm starting to understand related rates problems, which is more than I can say about last year. So on the good side, I'm reading and learning math. On the bad side, my left eye hurts and won't stop watering, and my ears feel like they need to pop, but whenever I plug my nose and blow, which usually works, I just feel like I'm going to pass out. Opening my jaw really wide doesn't help either.
My body is such a machine of dysfunction. I think if I had lived in Victorian times, they would have branded me "sickly" and had me lay on a couch all the time. Or I could go back to 6th grade on some retro situation comedy. All I need are braces and thick, coke-bottle glasses to complete my look.
I wouldn't be feeling this insecure if I wasn't being so antisocial, and I wouldn't be antisocial if there was actually life around here. Instead it's just incoherent children's voices at recess and that obnoxious organ.
You'd think I might savor those memories, but actually they just really make me want to leave. So does that freaking recorded organ music from the Methodist church that goes off every 12PM and 6PM for 15 minutes at a time. I'm so sick of that.
It's weird, during the day I'm SO ready to leave, but really late at night I start to feel kind of scared. A little like subdued panic.. just because I won't have strings tying me to anything. Like Pinocchio learning to walk on his awkward wooden feet without his puppetmaster. Where would he go? Right now that sounds terribly ideal, refreshing, liberating - but at 2AM, it feels scary. But of course, 2AM is not a time to be trusted. It puts emotions on cocaine.
So now I'm just waiting. Reading One Hundred Years of Solitude, which is good, but complicated. Taking 6-8 allergy pills a day, trying to keep my lately hyperactive sinuses in check. Drinking chamomile tea. Studying calculus (seriously). At least I'm starting to understand related rates problems, which is more than I can say about last year. So on the good side, I'm reading and learning math. On the bad side, my left eye hurts and won't stop watering, and my ears feel like they need to pop, but whenever I plug my nose and blow, which usually works, I just feel like I'm going to pass out. Opening my jaw really wide doesn't help either.
My body is such a machine of dysfunction. I think if I had lived in Victorian times, they would have branded me "sickly" and had me lay on a couch all the time. Or I could go back to 6th grade on some retro situation comedy. All I need are braces and thick, coke-bottle glasses to complete my look.
I wouldn't be feeling this insecure if I wasn't being so antisocial, and I wouldn't be antisocial if there was actually life around here. Instead it's just incoherent children's voices at recess and that obnoxious organ.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Why I Love My New School
24902. Telling the Truth: Skepticism, Relativism, and Bullshit. N. Hansen. Spring, 2007.
hard at work or hardly working? HAW.
I am at work, sitting on the floor behind the counter, making use of the laptop. If I don't, who will? I have an hour before I get to go home, crawl into bed, and attempt to go back to sleep. Last night sucked; I got all emotional, and then I couldn't sleep, and then I talked to Connie which is good because she's lovely, and then I couldn't sleep some more. When I did fall asleep, I woke up several times until finally at 4AM I got up and suffered. I suffered because I am of the feminine persuasion and I chose not to have a baby. God (or vague floaty conception of such) is punishing me at 4AM for not having a baby when it was conceivably possible, given my biological status. The pain was not fathomable. Not even the fetal position brought comfort. Not even a hot water bottle, in which I somehow managed to melt a hole with hot water (how is that possible?) God finally gave in to 2 Ibuprofen and allowed me to sleep at 6AM. And then I got up at 7 for work.
I am lately plagued with anxiety, I think. I have a number of reasons for thinking this, and one of the most interesting is the fact that this morning I woke up with a constellation of red spots on my leg. It closely resembles the Little Dipper, in fact. I am bewildered. Last week I had a similar constellation on my stomach. My mom thinks my cats have fleas and they're biting me in my sleep. A disturbing notion, to be sure. But I don't think my cats have fleas, and if they did, I don't think they would suddenly take to biting star patterns into my skin.
I am a little anxious, maybe, about school. Not about living kind of far away or about the radical adjustment, but about the math placement test. And sharing acommunity bathroom with boys. Not that I'd voice objection, because then I'd be that girl that voiced an objection, and then I'd have to walk up or down a flight of stairs every time I'd have to pee, and I have a small bladder. Or, worse, all the guys would have to and they'd whine. I don't really mind, save for my own embarrassment. I think it'll be kind of a fun experiment.
I know not to be anxious, because I have a plan for the math exam. And the bathrooms - we're all just animals anyway. I'll just transition back over to my mindframe of incredible euphoria, and think about how I'm going to be living in the city of Chicago, riding my bicycle along lakeshore, learning with a new sort of intensity, eating salad and ice cream whenever, meeting strange and intriguing people, and partying atop the John Hancock building, amongst other places. I will drink wine and eat fancy cheese. I will wander. I will talk a lot.
Mmm, the future. Thirteen days..
I am lately plagued with anxiety, I think. I have a number of reasons for thinking this, and one of the most interesting is the fact that this morning I woke up with a constellation of red spots on my leg. It closely resembles the Little Dipper, in fact. I am bewildered. Last week I had a similar constellation on my stomach. My mom thinks my cats have fleas and they're biting me in my sleep. A disturbing notion, to be sure. But I don't think my cats have fleas, and if they did, I don't think they would suddenly take to biting star patterns into my skin.
I am a little anxious, maybe, about school. Not about living kind of far away or about the radical adjustment, but about the math placement test. And sharing acommunity bathroom with boys. Not that I'd voice objection, because then I'd be that girl that voiced an objection, and then I'd have to walk up or down a flight of stairs every time I'd have to pee, and I have a small bladder. Or, worse, all the guys would have to and they'd whine. I don't really mind, save for my own embarrassment. I think it'll be kind of a fun experiment.
I know not to be anxious, because I have a plan for the math exam. And the bathrooms - we're all just animals anyway. I'll just transition back over to my mindframe of incredible euphoria, and think about how I'm going to be living in the city of Chicago, riding my bicycle along lakeshore, learning with a new sort of intensity, eating salad and ice cream whenever, meeting strange and intriguing people, and partying atop the John Hancock building, amongst other places. I will drink wine and eat fancy cheese. I will wander. I will talk a lot.
Mmm, the future. Thirteen days..
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
