a haiku for you

The night sky indigo blue,
A corner window
Lit only by the moonlight.
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so late

I think I have developed an allergy. To sleep. I just can't do it. I'm tired enough, but when I lay down I can't stop thinking about everything I need to do. I'm worried about the future and I wish it were as simple as choosing my first classes for graduate school, but it just isn't right now. Everyone else I know is excited to graduate and has made marvelous plans and belongs somewhere, and I am stuck in limbo and I feel like a failure. Worse, I feel like this is something I might have prevented had I worked harder or done something different in the past year. Maybe I could have thought ahead more, but I suppose it just became somewhat difficult to care when I was worried about other things, like writing stupid essays that never seem to end, or who knows what else. Everything that keeps me up at night is probably my own fault. And I think that I could have done so much better as a student over the past four years. I'm hardly failing, it's just that I have put so much effort into things that turn out to be average, and others have this gift for putting minimal effort into projects that receive perfect grades. I used to be like that! I graduated from high school with a golden cord around my neck and now I'm just one person in a crowd of thousands. I am guilty of not really contributing as much as I should have, and I feel a lot of regret right now, and it kills me to think about it. I put so much effort and energy into high school that I just forgot to care about my resume or my "record" and now I'm average. I don't want to be like this. I want to be the kind of woman that surprises people and excels. I want to go back to school and learn and be a credit to everything I'm part of. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe it's just that I am only accountable to myself, and the only place where I learn anything anymore is at work.
I write over and over about the same frustrations and distractions. I just feel stuck and regretful when the sun goes down. And to be honest, I haven't felt this discumbulated in weeks. Hopefully I will hear good news about a second interview soon and things will look a bit less bleak.
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horrible nightmare

The past couple of mornings I have had that thing when you are deep in sleep and the alarm becomes part of the dream until your body finally realizes that it is annoying and it's time to wake up. There have been times when I look at the clock and see that it has been as long as ten minutes before I wake up, simply because I am still dreaming. This morning was the worst. I started dreaming that my alarm clock went off and I hit snooze a bunch, but then I was trying to actually turn it off. And it wouldn't. I even took it apart and started yanking pieces of it out, and I unplugged it and it still wouldn't die. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP over and over and over! It was awful. I finally woke up, but hope this never happens again.
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striving for excellence?

I think my favorite part of the quarter has got to be the syllabus day.  What other day can you sit in a classroom listening to someone talk to you about how to get a good grade in his class.  I love it when this person suddenly floats into the clouds, pontificating on the merits of "striving for excellence" in his class, of "succeeding" in his class, of "giving it every ounce of effort."

Is this a joke?

Please.  Striving for excellence?  Didn't these words mean something once?  Didn't they apply to serving the community, or finishing a project that you love?  Or learning something new?  Now, "striving for excellence" has been reduced to earning points on quizes and papers.  I can hardly contain myself.  The classroom is not the whole world.  And I'm not even bitter about any of it.  Today, sitting in my ridiculous class, I realized that I outgrew the purpose of undergraduate education long ago, and I feel good about that.  I think almost everyone I know has outgrown it, and we're glad to be done wasting our time.

On a lighter note, my schedule changed about five times this morning.  Now I think it's set.

we end

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

T.S. Eliot
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for your soul

I think that everyone needs a little Rilke now and then.  I know I do.  So I post here, with apologies, a really fantastic poem.

Childhood

It would be good to give much thought, before

you try to find words for something so lost,

for those long childhood afternoons you knew

that vanished so completely - and why?

We're still reminded: sometimes by a rain,

but we can no longer say what it means;

life was never again so filled with meeting,

with reunion and with passing on

as back then, when nothing happened to us

except what happens to things and creatures:

we lived their world as something human,

and became filled to the brim with figures.

And became as lonely as a shepherd

and as overburdened by vast distances,

and summoned and stirred as from far away,

and slowly, like a long new thread,

introduced into that picture-sequence

where now having to go on bewilders us.

48 Hours

It's finals week, obviously.  And I wish I could say that it's an easy finals week and that I'm calm about it, but I think that my usual sense of security has actually freaked me out a bit.  So now I'm worrying that I haven't studied enough or learned enough this quarter to do well.  I'm worried I haven't paid enough attention in general.  I suppose I just mostly feel kind of lost.

I think that reading more Astronomy things on my own time haven't helped this feeling of listlessness.  All of the cosmology is just starting to freak out my brain and I can't take it all in.  Most people know how much I love science and learning about astrophysics, but it's honestly just starting to mess with my mind.  And I know this sounds stupid, like just put down the book already, but it happened before I saw it coming.  So now I'm just floating around trying to remember insane crap about Central Asia.

I was having a really amazing conversation with someone today who asked me what finals I have tomorrow.  We ended up talking about American history and culture for about an hour, and I honestly feel like I've learned a lot and I'm just ready to graduate.  I was shocked at the things coming out of my mouth, because usually I'm so afraid of sounding ridiculous when I talk about my supposed "specialty."  It unnerves me when people ask me really unbelieveably specific questions about History and I never seem to know the answer, which makes me feel just so unintelligent.  But I've seemed to reach that point where undergrad means basically nothing to me.  There are good profs here and there, and good lectures here and there, but mostly, it's just completely useless.  Papers papers papers.  Blah blah blah.  Let's write five pages about something people spend their lives writing about.  Please . . . right?  Let's just get on with our lives.

I complain about the same basic things over and over, I know.  It's just on my mind a lot and the fact that my brain is freaking out about the universe and time right now, it's not helping.  I'm serious about the universe stuff.  I've been reading more about time lately, and my whole perspective of what time actually is has shifted.

I just wrote three paragraphs of a story that I would like to post in the brothers but I'm not sure it's good.  I like the writing, but I think the story is probably silly.  I'm wondering when the creator might unleash his visionary power and post something himself, because I have been looking forward to it for quite some time.

i have so much to do...

As the subject implies, this will be the most hellish day of the quarter, as I must finish up two essays for tomorrow. One is a research paper, which sucks.

On Thursday after class I'm just going to stumble out of class and curl up on the nearest bench for a nap, because I probably won't be able to make it back to my apartment immediately.

In other news, if you haven't read anything by Augusten Burroughs, I highly recommend that you do. It's very similar to David Sedaris, in that the books are so good you can't leave them at home, but you inevitably laugh a lot in public when you are reading. Having something light to read (both in the cheerful sense and the academic sense) is usually a good idea for me when in the midst of writing for class, so I don't go insane.

Ok, here I go.
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school

I just want to read and write on my own, unsupervised, forever.

what's the point anymore?

I just had a really down moment on my way to campus. I was driving along, thinking about Astronomy class that I have in about an hour, and contemplating just skipping the thing. We have a homework assignment due, yes, but I am pretty sure that even if I skipped every homework assignment I would still be able to get about a 95% because I usually test well. My logic for skipping class, even as I was already at campus and on my way to a favorable parking location, was that I could just stay at the library until I could keep my eyes open no longer, studying for another class. If I go to Astronomy, I will be exhausted (more than I already am) and hungry after, and most certainly go home where the atmosphere is much more comfortable. But nothing ever gets done in my apartment anymore. So why not spend my last window of productivity for the day devoted to a class that I probably need to spend more time in? But what about Astronomy? It's my favorite class. All of these possibilities were playing out in my head until I realized that I'm putting a lot of thought into only a three hour time frame. Just like a satellite moving around a planetary body (painfully cheesy analogizing, sorry), my life revolves around these two to three hour sessions twice a week for each class. And for what? I'm learning, sure. But it's a big let-down. Classes are great, but I prepare for them and work for them, and then I go, and it's over, and I repeat the process about twenty times. This is fine with me, but once I've allowed myself to skip one class I've somehow escaped the orbit around my classes and it's damaged my outlook for the next six weeks, because rooting my schedule around class doesn't seem as necessary anymore. It just becomes tedious and depressing. So I ask myself, what else is there to life (aside from page-ing) when I'm in college? And that, I'm sorry to say, is a pretty sad train of thought. The routine becomes less and less captivating, and more and more...empty. I'm just so tired. I usually stay positive, and have become quite good at reassuring myself, but today I'm just a bit melancholy and lost. I'm sure it's probably just the fatigue getting to me. This is the point when I let out a nice, long groan (mentally, though, I'm in the library) and get on with it.

Snow Day

I am looking out onto Third Street watching the snow fall to the tune of nearby church bells and enjoying the fact that it is a snow day, despite having come to work in the wee hours anyway. If you would call 730 the wee hours, which I do. Even though the day isn't even that much different than usual, I think just knowing it is a snow day makes it doubly fun!

Also, I made blueberry muffins from scratch at midnight last night for my coworkers, and I wasn't sure how they would taste because this particular recipe seemed not-quite-right. But they are incredible. Thank you, Alton Brown.

I'm also appreciative of the fact that people with large vehicles did not drive maniacally whilst the owners of two pound cars like myself kept a steady 20 yard per hour pace.

Representative Murray just ate a muffin and he asked for a second.
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drilling, water, and photog, and table computers

I'll start off by saying that I'm always torn between including a comma before the "and" when making a list of more than two items. For example, the title of this blog. I have always done the extra comma and it has made perfect sense to me for years, but lately I'm inclined to omit. No one does it anymore! There is a crew outside The Beach blocking the entire road in order to fix a broken pipe. This requires the water being shut off for at least four hours, I'm told in a "breaking news" style email from management this morning. I don't mind the water thing, or the loud drilling, or the violent tremors caused by the drilling, but I am concerned. I raise the question: What is a Beach without water??? Alright. We just had a long weekend, and at some point, I happened upon Flickr, which I had known about for a while but never really looked at extensively. This is because I don't really feel the need to share all of my photos with people I don't know. And when I do want to share photos (and make the time to upload them, I might add) I just put them on Facebook. However, I've recently become something of a Google nut. I use Gmail, Google Reader, Google Calendar (not primarily, mostly just for reminders, since it's linked to my phone), GoogleDocs, and Google Sites. (I've used another comma before "and." Classic? Yes. Classy? Definitely.) I like using these things not because they make my life easier, or because they make me any more organized. I don't think I like having everything organized planned for every minute and recorded into my GoogleCrap so I can remember it all. So why all the technology all of the sudden? Frankly? It's fun. And I'm vastly intrigued with the different ways we can store information. For example, if we have an office filing system and we want to convert it to digital and get rid of paper, how much better is our system really going to be? Is it going to be any less cumbersome? Probably not. What are the ways that we manipulate our information to make it easier to find? What things are better left as a hardcopy? These questions seem to constantly pop up at work, where records retention isn't just for fun, it's the law. And then there's always the challenge of making any kind of online system as intuitive as possible. And safe. It reminds me a lot of some issues that came up in a lesson at the Archives last year in a History class. (Nay, a fantastic history class.) The archivists were introducing the topic of information management, and the problems associated with any type of storage technique. Paper takes up too much space, but lasts almost forever, depending on the care of storage. Analog is more compact, but its lifespan is significantly shorter. Digital is obviously amazing, but easily lost. Hardcopies like compact discs and hard drives? Delicate. Easily manipulated. And on the list goes. It all brings on feelings of angst and hate. Why can't everything we need not just fit into a small filing cabinet? What are these mysterious folders everywhere? Surely they have no purpose! I love it at work when D announces that she wants to store a load of files. I happily pack fifteen or so boxes and carefully label them for the Historical Society, then send them to the basement without a backward glance. Someday, someone might make use of them. Whoever that is, God bless his heart. Or hers? So back to Flickr? I like GoogleDocs because that way I can access a few things online when I'm at school, and not have to email myself papers all the time for printing. So I guess Flickr is just like GoogleDocs, except for pictures. Which is cool. But totally unecessary for my purposes. But this weekend I was thinking about how much I love Columbus, and how I want to enjoy it as much as I can before graduating. I'm not sure yet where I'll be living, it depends on graduate school acceptance, really. So it just makes me grateful for the time I've had here, because I really love Columbus! Some people think that Ohio is pretty lame all around, but I think it's a great state and that Columbus is the best city in it. It isn't perfect, and goodness knows every city is shady in one way or another. But I like the fact that it has a functioning downtown. I love driving to work in the mornings and seeing everyone walking to their offices or getting coffee. I love campus. College in general is frustrating sometimes, and there are moments when I wonder at the tedious and pointless, fiery, circus-style hoops we have to jump through to get the diploma. But I can't deny that I've learned a great deal and that I've become an adult here. So this weekend, whilst just appreciating Columbus, I found myself admiring some of the picturesque locales. There isn't always a lot of time for exploring. And it is freezing cold at the moment. But I would like to try and see more of Columbus while I can. And I'd like to take a bunch of pictures of it all! And I want to put them on Flickr. I can at least start putting impromptu phone pictures on something other than just my phone. I was inspired by the amazing photos that people take of the places where they live, including some Columbusites / Columbusians (?), as well as by possible plans for a photo shoot that have been put off by quite some time. I have no idea if I'll actually do this. But it'd be fun! And break up the monotany of winter, at the very least. Lastly, I'd like to tell a brief and embarassing story about table computers. First, you have to understand what a "table computer" is. Now, you have to understand why table computers are funny. This is all somewhat related to the question of when use of technology is actually necessary, and when it becomes completely far out and ridiculous. (Awesomely ridiculous? Bien sur!) Now, for the story. I'd wondered what had happened to the Microsoft Surface, as I've never seen one and haven't heard any buzz for at least a year. Touch screens aren't really new any more, and HP makes a rather nice touch screen monitor now. Presumably for far less than a table computer. But a few days ago I went to one of the libraries to study and noticed in a separate digital room that there was a coffee table that looked strangely like a computer. I didn't gaze at it for very long, but I was certain that this was the fabled Microsoft Surface. And that the university had purchased one simply because it can. It made perfect sense, considering that this "digital room" is basically a special room in this library with a bunch of the more high end technology for student projects. Anyway, I decided to return later with D(bag?) and check it out. We went upstairs and entered the digitalesque room to play with the table computer. It appeared to be on the same screen saver that I saw it on earlier, which was like watching an underwater scene with coral and starfish. So I started touching it, waiting for it to work, but it didn't feel like a screen, it just felt like plexiglass. This is the moment when my companion turned to me and said, "It's not a table computer, it's just a table." We left promptly. I can't believe I thought that a coffee table was a table computer. I have to say something in my defense, though. Why would anyone put a coffee table in a room full of expensive technological equiptment where beverages aren't even allowed? And don't even tell me it's for laying out papers and books during group discussions or for studying. People are drawn to the room for its super computers, which offer them the ability to map the genetic makeup of a new species they discovered at Stone Lab, or to analyze the night movement of country fowl in Maine. More importantly, why would one ever make a coffee table with a screen showing coral and starfish moving under the sea?! I rest my case. Maybe I should start my photog'ing with a picture of the starfish table. Cheers.

clocks

I have recently placed two new clocks in my apartment. One is a large pocket watch styled clock that sits on my coffee table, and the other is a large clock hanging on one of the walls. While hanging up the larger one with J after dinner this week, she commented that I should put the pocket watch in the kitchen so that the two different tickings wouldn't bother me in the night time. But I never noticed the ticking, and figured that neither clock made noise that I could hear, and so they sit in the same space. When I think of clocks ticking, I think of my grandparents' house. They have a grandfather clock that they purchased to commemorate one of their wedding anniversaries, and a small metal plaque on the inside is inscribed with the year and their names. That clock ticks so loudly, I can hear it from the kitchen. But I love it, and when it chimes, it's like hearing the past ring. My cousin has asked to be left the clock, and I don't blame her. It's beautiful, and kind of haunting. While home for Christmas, some guests at my grandparents' house remarked on all the clocks, as they have two others in the same room as the grandfather. They hang on the wall and are extremely old - one of them is over a hundred years old and came from Germany with my family. I listened to my grandpa talk about how the clock had hung in his father's workroom on the farm, and how my grandma always admired that clock. So my great-grandfather told his daughter-in-law that she could have the clock when he was done using it. When he passed away, it came to belong to my grandparents. Apparently there are a lot of other time pieces in the family, all old and sturdy and German. One of them is a beautiful mantle clock and it sits in our house, actually, though it is very temperamental and has to be tuned up fairly often, so it usually sits in silence. But when I was in high school we ran it all of the time, and the ticking was just as loud as the grandfather clock. These days, if I'm trying to count out seconds or think of timing for music, I can find it pretty quickly just from having listened to the tick tock of that clock for so long. Clocks clocks. I'm happy to have just realized that the clocks in my apartment, though they are not antiques and were not made in Germany, do tick. They tick on the off-beats of one another, and I love it.

a review of everything

I just read all my blog posts, because I had nothing else I wanted to do. It made me feel better. I haven't felt like myself this week. And I'm not sure there is any particular reason for it, that's just how I've felt lately. And now I'm going home for Thanksgiving, and sometimes when I go home I feel less like myself than I even do now. I'm glad that I write things down. I can tell when I was writing something because I had to put some truth on paper, and when I was writing to try to find myself again. Does anyone else feel this way? I suppose that's partly what I'm doing right now. At ten o'clock in the morning. Rather uncharacteristic of me. I've written jokingly before about how I'm not a morning person. I've written comical stories about alarm clocks and snooze buttons, but the truth is, I wake up to silence and an empty apartment, and the only person around to pull me out of sleep is myself. It is simply uninteresting. I live for the night. I live for having no assignments left to finish, and enjoying a respite with my favorite people. Not all of my actions or plans are entirely deliberate, but it is likely that if I spend time with you it is because I enjoy your company very much. Afterward I go home alone, and I put myself to bed. But sometimes I write something first. Because it helps me hear my own voice when I have the luxury (and the curse) of hearing no one else late at night. It's strange to read my journal sometimes, to hear my own voice. Even more strange, I almost perfectly follow a pattern of one entry written late at night to relieve some stress or despair that won't leave me long enough to sleep, followed by another entry written in bliss. Though, I suppose that since I don't write as much as I used to (something I'd like to change), at least I do write quality. And it would make sense that I only have been writing when I'm experiencing one extreme emotion or the other, instead of just stringing words together when nothing particularly exciting is going on. What is unfortunate is that long after I am gone, someone might find my journals and think I was totally off the hook for about ten pages, and then fine for thirty. Fortunately, no historian would probably ever be interested in my journal because it is more introspective than anything, though I used to worry a lot (and quite seriously) about the consumer culture and the possibility of depleting the fresh water supply. So when the fresh water supply does deplete and I go live on a boat in the lake, I can always tell people that I knew it was coming and had a plan. Or maybe I'll just grow gills and live in the ocean like Kevin Costner in Water World. Only, I won't be able to write, because I imagine it would be difficult while swimming around in the ocean. I think it is now time to go out into today.

water, where art thou?

This morning the water at the beach has been turned off until noon, which meant that I had to wake up far sooner than I would have liked in order to take a shower. I'm debating whether to skip class and just leave now for Thanksgiving, because I'm sure there will be plenty of traffic at 4pm. I felt like I had something to say but now I forget what it was.

i look out my window

It's snowing.

48 hours and counting

In exactly two days I will be done with my midterms and my first (hopefully my only...) attempt at the GRE. A beer sounds so good right now. A nice crisp Killian's, frothy at the top the way it is when fresh from the tap. Just one lovely beer. But for now, it will have to wait.

i continue to remain calm.

"There is no wealth but life." John Ruskin This quote was at the top of my gmail today.

a poem for everyone who hates bedtime.

I hate to go to bed, I do. Almost more than I hate a bucket full of poo. But sleepy I am, and to sleep I must Or my brain tomorrow may very well bust. So goodnight, adieu, I must shout "shoo! shoo!" To the thoughts that slow My mind like goo. So while I'd rather stay awake Because that'd be so great, I'm going now. It's been real. (Lolz) -OK

The old and the restless

I am attempting to blog from my phone. I will be surprised if this works.

My comments on the first day of class mostly pertain to bring annoyed that everyone on campus is much too young for my taste. It would be understandable if everyone just looked very young; exuberant and fresh, their first day of higher education. Full of hope and excitement, giddy in the anticipation. I was the same way, I'm sure.

But it isn't just the first day atmosphere. It is an issue of it all just being too young. The campus I love is now a haven for lost, dependent beings. The CABS shout out each stop in a horrid, computerized voice. People no longer just figure things out for themselves, excited by the challenge as we all seemed to be three years ago.

I'm going to be late for coffee. More at another time about french. Sent from my BlackBerry Smartphone provided by Alltel