well, shoot.

I didn't do several of the things I had planned to do today. Like all (most) of my readings. Or my laundry.

What I did do, though, was buy a copy of Flannery O'Connor's "The Complete Stories", because I remembered an early winter morning last year when U. and I looked at an apartment on 61st Street and when I got back all I wanted to do was sleep but instead, for some reason, I went online and found "A Good Man is Hard to Find" and read it. And I remember very well. It was completely dark in my room. And the screen was glowing. And I sat in my bed. And it was really, really good.

Good enough to prompt me to buy her collected short stories, despite the fact that I'm supposed to be saving and I have a million books I haven't read (including several I've purchased over the past couple months, like "The Brothers Karamazov" and "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance", the former I abandoned for the latter, the latter I abandoned because of all the actual motorcycle jargon I didn't feel like getting through, and nothing getting picked up because I needed to sulk for a while and then I couldn't concentrate).

But, as soon as she comes in the mail, Flannery and I are going to spend some quality time together.

!!!!!

Conversation with U. Rational discussion of neediness, shame, worry, and anger.

Our thesis:

Love must be given without expectation. Once you have expectations about what the other person "owes" you, you begin the slippery and seemingly interminable descent into neediness. Neediness is not about the other person. Neediness is about yourself--about needing the validation of someone else.

Love is about the other person. You must give of yourself with the belief that you're whole enough to give infinitely.

Enlightenment obtained. I am the Zen master.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, A.

A fire at the Point is a very satisfying way to celebrate someone's birth.

We had cheese & wine, French bread, and s'mores. T. even brought his iPod, and played what he described as the French equivalent to Frank Sinatra, and then Frank himself. You can see the city in the near distance, tall and glowing.

T. called me a hippie. Maybe because I was too close to the fire. Or because I was wearing a boy sweater. I don't know what "hippie" means anymore, but I ditch the political 1960's activism and closely relate it with "earthy". Which is a term I don't mind being associated with--it reminds me of camping, and why I feel the way I do about the people I feel that way about.

(Walking that morning for hours, to the green line stop at Bronzeville. Being afraid of the vacuum cleaner when I was 3. Vanilla soft-serve from the Cone Zone. Dog searches. Summer thunderstorms, and running through all the puddles in an oversized T-shirt. Babysitting my neighbor's children and reading Siddhartha on the couch at night. The night in Amsterdam when it rained so hard and I almost bought brown corduroys. That day it was hot and we went to the creek and swam and it was perfect. When I lost the library's copy of "On the Road", and how happy I was to find it again. The smell of my room the summer after 9th grade, when it was redone, empty, lavender, and I had early morning driver's training. My sister's wedding, being alone that night, and the phone call I got. Those sandals that I loved, from that crap store in the Upper Peninsula.)

I should write more. It's what I want to do.

I should also drink a lot of water before the AM. Wine is the happiest drunk, is it not?

I can't believe it's 11:20pm. It feels like 3 in the morning..

be prePARED.

(Hope everyone got the Lion King reference.)

In anticipation of leaving for India--whenever that may be--I've been searching through travel blogs in order to see what people have to say about specific places. I'm preparing myself; every time I read a "blah blah blah BUT I should have remembered--" or "I wish I'd known--" I make a mental check and add it to the list of things to keep in mind. I feel like a boy scout.

Apparently, the most popular travel blog domain in the universe is "[yourname]in[country].blogspot.com". Because I have a friend in China right now using this pattern, I thought I'd give it a try for India. I probably spent more than an hour just typing names in--Kate, Leslie, Anna, Anne, Ann, Mary, Jessica, Jen, Ashley, Michael, etc--and reading what came up. And the thing is, more names than not were legitimate domains of people traveling/living/studying in India. Many of them were Jaipur-based. One was even in the MSID program. It was like an instant connection to a million anonymous travelers.

Some Things To Expect:

--Occasional sexual harassment
--Constant attempts to be taken advantage of, monetarily
--Bottled water with broken seals (i.e. bottled tap water)
--People wanting their picture taken
--People using the streets as a toilet facility

I am a bit surprised by some of the recommendations I've been given, and just how extraordinarily different almost every aspect of life is going to be. Because Jaipur is in a fairly conservative region, I've been advised to leave my clothes here and purchase an entirely new wardrobe upon arrival. This advice is almost martial--it takes a tone of, "If you don't do this, you will be mistaken for a dirty slut and then harassed into oblivion."

Water. Food. Sitting positions. Eye contact. Toilet usage. The most fundamental things may need to be rethought. One thing that surprised me was the absolute ban on getting even mildly romantically involved with the locals--not because the organization takes a parental adherence to you, but rather because such an association has the potential to irreparably tarnish that person's social status in a way that's not at all intuitive to a Western mindset. Apparently in the past a village girl became associated with an American and as a result was targeted as "dirty" and not marriageable. Another story mentions a suicide. I don't know how broadly these kinds of examples apply, but I certainly won't be frivolously kissing any pretty Indian boys beneath the lovely Jaipuri moon.

[Of course... that does sort of kill the romance. But the romantic conception of two entirely different individuals with entirely dissimilar backgrounds and belief systems falling in love is less than realistic anyway. (Although that confused guy on the train was sort of sweet.)]

Anyway... it's not that I feel bad about all of this. I'm really thrilled to experience a place where almost everything is different. I would love to come back to America and see it through the scope of another country... "God, this bread is so weird."

adrenaline dreams.

Last night I dreamt I was escaping from jail--only I was actually escaping en route from an old jail to a new jail. I was on a train, and was fleeing with 3 others. We had to jump into a patch of tall grass that was growing alongside the tracks, and stay down as the rest of the train went past. Then we had to make our way through a small Vermont town with bicyclists and little toddling cars--the dream felt antiquated, like maybe it was taking place in the 20's or 30's. Eventually we were caught.

I really liked that dream. Not because it was fun, exactly--it was actually really stressful--but because it was terrifying and liberating at the same time. In the dream, I was very in-the-moment. There was adrenaline.

The night before I had a dream that I got to go to Africa. I was working on a research project, but things were getting ominous. There were seedy characters with questionable motivations. Tropical diseases were caught.

But I was also very satisfied when I woke up. Both dreams had dark underlying plots, but they were also vivid in imagery and sensation, and involved me walking in a direction, unsure where I was going. But I knew I was going somewhere completely new.

Not exactly hard to interpret, I guess.

Writing isn't considered procrastination, right?

Yeah. So I'm a little bit ADD. So I can't make it through a paragraph of John Rawls without lifting my eyes to stare at the cupboard and fantasize about Indian cupboards. So I've watched way too many episodes of Arrested Development today. So I still don't have an idea for my response due tomorrow at 7pm (I just agree with Rawls, OK?)

I completely embody that state of being where I'm so disinterested that I don't even feel worry. Relevant things just don't feel relevant to my life right now. It's like when I was in 9th grade, only I'm in the right place now. Societies collapse, yes. But the rest of this year is going to be so exciting! Also, how did it become 3rd Week? Like, whoa.

We had a party on Saturday. It was good, I think. Actually, no, I know, because I didn't get drunk (unlike the last one) and so I spent some disembodied-feeling time just watching people interact and consoling some emotionally intoxicated friends and appreciating my own taste in music. People mostly stick to their groups, but it's interesting to see the ones who drift into new groups, and the unlikely pairs that bunker down in a corner to have an intense conversation. It's also weird to see the couple of loners I don't remotely recognize, in my apartment, mixing white Russians and scanning my bookshelf. A few people were still around when I went to bed at about 3AM. The next morning things were clear and sunny (did I mention I didn't get drunk? I love mornings like that) and the apartment was surprisingly clean. No spills or vomit. We have reigned-in friends. Success.

Also, a couple people mentioned my blog, which was super-weird. Mostly because neither of them have read it, and it was like, "I heard you have an intense blog," which, I mean, how do you respond? This makes me wonder if more than like, three people read this. (I can see you all, lurking).

But more than likely it was just A. referring to it for whatever reason.

My weeks have been sort of vaguely boring without being bad. Lots of e-mail checking going on. This quarter is mainly divorced from the angsty loneliness I wallowed in (publicly? maybe) over the last two quarters. I'm back to being OK with being The Alone-ist of the Alone. To be honest, I don't even know if I could deal with a relationship. Once in 7th grade, I "went out" with this 8th grader for a week--someone I'd had a crush on for months, mind you--and grew annoyed by his nightly calls by about the 2nd day. I think I'm still kinda like that. I'd prefer to think of myself as some sort of loner superhero or something. Superheroes are always loners. I should get on that saving-people thing.

It's 12:34AM which means a) it's a very special time, numbers-wise, and b) I'm going to be upset with myself when I'm alarmed awake circa 8AM.

et oui papa

T. is over there <--- teaching A. a song in French. After we just wrote and composed a horrible, twangy country song. It feels like last summer.

Except the window is closed. And I'm in leggings. And people aren't having parties.

A. is going to Paris.
T. is going to Seoul.
U. is going to Bordeaux.
And I am going to Jaipur and/or Pune.

But for now we're all still here, already putting off our homework and skipping a class or two, and planning for a party.

I skipped everything--everything--today and instead went downtown and applied for my passport. This was only mildly irresponsible. The post office is only open Monday-Friday and closes at 4PM. Things were going to be disrupted, no matter when I went.

It was a rainy day in Chicago. One of my favorite kinds, where the steady downpour lasts all day, so every time you enter a building you're relieved and earth-smelling and almost immediately cozy. This weather makes the skyscrapers disappear into a haze. It makes gray, polluted puddles appear everywhere. The El still offers free "heat"--while waiting on the platform for the train, in the little shelter (train stop?), you can push a button and everything will go bright yellow and heat will radiate from above you. Never enough to warm you, but enough to remind you that heat exists, and what it's like. People huddled. Today was huddling weather. I felt happy.

If I were a skilled photographer, today would have been an excellent day to photograph people.

I thought of a lot of things to write about, but now they're just collected and unused: the performer on the El. The thing about Chicago. The poor financial state I am in. My mother's infinite goodness.

I had an idea recently that I'd start recording things I remember. Just getting them down, to have them reserved somehow. Like the games Kristin and I used to play in her shed, which required crawling around on a precarious 1 and 1/2 ft width board about 20 ft above the concrete floor (usually involving ancient Egypt and lots of dogs). And the horses across the street from my Oma & Opa's old house in a little German town. And the desperate indifference I felt at volleyball games at 14, and the CD player and songs I clung to because nobody interested me (and I interested nobody). And the smell of the bus on the way home and how dark it got and how somehow this bred romantic ideas in me. And the popcorn wagon. And passing out in a bathroom some early morning hour in Maryland. And Joe, the white water rafting guide. And staying home sick and trying to write E.E. Cummings-style poems in my bed. And the puzzle I spent three days on in Leelanau last September. And washing my hair in the lake with Kristin that night in the U.P. and those blue tin cups we pumped well water into and sometimes made pink lemonade in with her powder. And the baby foxes. And the stone necklace I lost. And walking to the park in the summer to get into water fights with the guy I liked. And when no one passed me the football in 7th grade gym, which was good, because I didn't know how to play anyway. And Ravendale. And plastic bag kites. And Animal Island. And talking to his friend because I didn't know how to talk to him. And painting the church. And Amour, my first actual journal, and that cat diary which was my first attempt. And the one time I ever got into a physical fight. And the old playground equipment, which was wooden and not plastic, and the Cheese, and the time I convinced my neighbor to jump over the fence and she ripped her pants. And that song about "sweet potato pie". And the time I crawled into and fell out of the basketball hoop. And the time my shirt caught on fire from the sparkler. And when I got out of my kayak to pee and then fell in and it was deep. And the swimming hole. And that story about the Elvis-impersonating three-toed-sloth. And naming the class guinea pig Ginger and the decision walking home in 9th grade that "love" was an overwhelming word and concept. And getting called a "prep" in 6th grade and feeling instantly flattered. And that time on the phone at 3AM when I didn't say it back. And the basement karaoke. And getting drunk for the first time on red wine on the back porch while playing Shithead.

It's not that I'm nostalgic. It's more that I'm stunned when I remember the variety of things that have happened to me and how many different people I've been and how I'm still kinda the same. Going through it all in my head, after the process of active remembering, it takes a long time to place myself now. What I'm worried about and how I'm hurt or ecstatic and where I'm going tomorrow morning.

I am located at the University of Chicago. I am going to India. Why?

The disappearing Sears:

??? !!! ???

Today, I got this information:

"Dear AIIS language students:

You have been admitted to the AIIS summer language program."

and then, after I was all "Sorry I gotz no mooonneeyz," I got this information:

"Dear Emilie:

Because of your ranking by the language committee, you are eligible to receive a tuition waiver, if you could come up with your own funds for airfare and living expenses."

..............!

This means I could potentially spend the summer in Jaipur. It would be roughly the same as spending the summer in Boulder. At first this was really exciting.

But now I feel really sad. Because I really want to spend the summer in Boulder. I have it all planned out in my head and I'm going to hang out with my sister and her friends and Marla and my interesting new coffee shop friends and it's going to be wonderful. There are going to be bonfires and a hot tub and I won't have to think about school. And then I'm going to see my German relatives that I haven't seen in five years and we're going the hike and bond and I'm going to eat at the Dushanbe Teahouse and buy cheap used books and bike all over. And maybe I'll start writing again.

So I don't know what to do. There's still the chance that I get the NSEP (I should find out in a week or so, now) in which case I'd have the whole year for India and would love a relaxing summer in Boulder. But if I don't, all I'd have is the autumn Pune program--and I might like to be there for longer.

I'm in mood-swing city.

Comments?

lady in WAITING.

Because nobody can keep my applications and their implications straight (and I mean, not even my mom), here's a little review on the status of my attempts at fleeing the country with little in hand for a very different place:

1. University of Chicago Pune Program

Entails: Late September thru mid-December in Pune, India (apparently very intellectual, it's called the "Oxford of India" [or maybe it's "Cambridge of India"--I always get those two confused]). I would be staying with 25 or so other UChicagoans, and fulfilling my civilization requirement by learning all about South Asian civ. Travel to nearby states involved (Kerala!). Rumored to be very FUN. Involves costs piled on top of regular quarter costs.
Status: Accepted.

2. American Institute of Indian Studies Intermediate Hindi Program

Entails: Ten-week (summer) intensive Hindi study in the city of Jaipur.
Status: Pending--but who cares? I have no funding; I'm not going.

3. Critical Language Scholarship (funding)

Entails: A couple thousand dollars from the federal gov't for the intensive study of a language abroad. Application specifically asking for funding for AIIS summer program (see above).
Status: Rejected.

4. Minnesota Studies in International Development -- India

Entails: Early-September thru mid-April (8 months!) with University of Minnesota juniors, seniors, and grad students in Jaipur. Classes all centered on international development, sustainability, public health, etc (and Hindi). HOME-STAY. Spring internship with a nearby NGO! Research project based on findings in internship, classes. All costs ~$16,000 (including plane ticket).
Status: Accepted.

5. National Security Education Program -- Boren Scholarship (funding)

Entails: Funding for entirety of Minnesota program. A promise to work for the gov't for the same amount of time spent abroad--the idea is to recruit returnees with knowledge in languages critical to national security to the State, Defense, National Security, etc. departments in order to avoid doing things like invading nations we know nothing about (or to better invade them, maybe). The service requirement is flexible, though (think: Environmental Protection Agency) and think even the Peace Corps counts now.
Status: Pending. . . . . .

It's a bit frustrating having plans that aren't set for next year, and waiting around to hear about funding, as I had to contact both the Pune program head and the MSID head to explain about such complications and why I'd rather not just fork over the $500 and $400 deposits (respectively) before finding out what I can do. Because, obviously, I'd be losing either $500 or $400. But they clearly want their deposits, and I'm clearly a bit of an inconvenience. I have to re-contact the head of the study abroad office again by Wednesday if I haven't heard from NSEP (which I will not have). I'm just hoping he doesn't want me to pay.

This is all not that interesting, maybe.

Anyway.

On a different note, these are the classes I'm taking this quarter:

1. State Collapse and State Reconstruction. This is technically a human rights course. It's taught by an African guy (!) which is new, as I rarely run into Africans on campus and this is the first time I've seen/met an African professor. He seems a little naturally shy, and sometimes I zone out a little and lose the English in his accent, but he has a lot of intelligent things to say. Every class a couple people "present" the readings by asking discussion questions based on them (I'm tomorrow!). We've already touched on the whole You're-Applying-Western-Standards-to-Other-Nations argument, which can get a little excruciating when you're talking about BASIC HUMAN RIGHTS, like not KILLING people for having other religious BELIEFS or ethnic ORIGINS. Tomorrow I'm going to make people talk about whether or not population regulations are ethical.

2. Hindi 103. 'Course. Only Jason seems to be on speed now (7 exercises for homework is just. not. realistic.) Also, we're learning the URDU script (think borrowed from Persian [borrowed from Arabic]). Which is both difficult and kind of awesome.

3. Philosophical Foundations of Human Rights. Taught by a self-deprecating British man (aren't they all?), given to lengthy anecdotes, but apparently very learned on his subject. The first class, he managed to mention abortion, Rambo, and the stupidity of children. I anticipate a good quarter. (ps--African, now British? I'm oh-so-international this quarter.)

4. Urban Ecology: The Environmental History of the City. Technically a history course. Very interesting subject taught by a wavy-haired guy (insert remembrance of "Catcher in the Rye") who's actually an archaeologist. Also seems to have a sense of humor, and be kind of brilliant. We're reading some very cool books and sort of focusing on Chicago.

Anyway, I have scads of stuff to do (all the reading might kill me this quarter)... so ttyl, lolz.

bad. feelings.

Ever since I've gotten back from Spring Break--especially ever since I've known I didn't get the CLS--I've had a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach about the NSEP for study in Jaipur. Sure I got into the Minnesota program, but that's very different from the federal government handing me a giant check to go through with it.

My feeling worsened today when I talked to Niko, a friend who went to China on the NSEP previously. He told me that apparently only about 300 awards are available. I was imaging something closer to 1,000. This year, 16 people at the University of Chicago alone applied, and several of them also proposed India study. He also said that they like to get a variety of places represented, and I'm sure India is more overrepresented in applications than, say, Lesotho.

In fact, I think I might be going off the assumption from now on that I'm not getting the scholarship, just to prepare myself for finding out. I don't deal well with failure, especially when I set out with good feelings about myself, my capabilities, etc. If I had been rejected by U of C, I would have been inconsolable for, probably, weeks. Months, maybe.

So it's good to start early! I fail. Fail. Failfailfail.

In brighter news, I sort of have housing and sort of have a job for the summer in Boulder. Ah, foothills.

songs for late

1. Knife - Grizzly Bear
2. Throw it All Away - Brandi Carlile
3. Reckoner - Radiohead
4. It's Not Happening - The Be Good Tanyas
5. Paper Planes - M.I.A. (yes, really)
6. Seeing Hands - Dengue Fever