i don't know who i am, who i plan to be, or what my hopes/dreams in life are

i remember once wanting to draw, once wanting to weave, once wanting to write, once wanting to teach
right now i just want to cuddle up in bed and wake up to a field of green grass and someone walking towards me, someone i know, someone telling me that we have to get going, that the future is waiting and it's time to start all over again
and move into a wooden house where making mroe friends would be easy

donnie darko moment

he stood up.
he looked around him, not recognizing anything, and put on his backback abruptly, trying to feel with purpose. he walked away from where he had been, from the stairs, from the cement starkly lit by the afternoon sun of spring being sprung. the trees in the distance came closer and he realized he was walking to get lunch. passing a tree, he saw a dead squirrel lying at the trunk, another squirrel in the ditance eating a nut, and people walking by.
no one cared. his heart hurt and his mind ached. the world did not make sense so he would try to forget about it, try to remember the story. Kelly Link. The garden of eden, i am your adam madam, madam my adam. Songs on a tape deck and women made of apples.
he passed a pink beetle. when it honked, he forgot it was an insect, seeing the car in it. hearing the guitar of a rambuxious but pretentious musician, he turned to see a bland-looking guy playing guitar with amps-pumped-too-loud and a beard. everyone in indiana wears beards.
he forgot himself again, until he found himself standing in a hallway, familiarly lit, and he could see his own destiny, like a bubble drawn through a large net on a still day, like the large, clear worm things in donnie darko, pulled out before him. he saw it go around the corner, down through the short valley between the union and the downtown and the burrito place. he saw it go to the burrito place and knew that was the only place he wanted to go, that was the only destiny he had.
passing an art store, he wandered in, disobeing destiny, forgeting the clear worm. within moments, he'd purchased something, not sure what until he got to the restaurant with its strong smell of beans and chili. looking at his hand, he saw the red bag, looked in, found the overpriced sketchbook and the case of pencils. he decided he would go back tomorrow and return the pencils. he ate his quesadilla and slowly realized that he had nowhere else to go.
his destiny had filled its desire for the day, pulling him here, pulling him somewhere that felt like home. right then, he remembered that he needed to leave.

in a photograph

Bake a Cake

Mother of whispers, mother
of sorrow, she sits at a tall table and ponders
the morrow, wait until dinner time,
holding my hand, wait til the broccoli
lies dead in the stand. Then, you may come
to the mother of sorrow, she'll tell you
hope is oven-bound, when she means
we are dying.

"half of the time we're gone
and we don't know where, we don't know where.."

today my morning class was cancelled
so i slept 10 hours and woke up and ate a sandwich while reading school closings on my tele
indiana university was closed until noon
i checked my email to discover my other class was cancelled, leaving me with nothin to do
so now i am writing a reaction paper and eating pineapples, freshly cut, while listening to music and enjoying the warm sunshine on my face
feeling warm, seeing the ice on the trees
thinking about playing in snow
powdery and white and wet
and, dare i say, i am smiling


"half of the time we're gone
but we don't know where, we don't know where
...
i am here"
(simon and garfunkel-the only living boy in ny)

City at the End of the Earth

I don't care that you're in California
while I am landlocked in
Bloomington, I want to see
with arms outstretched, our names
calligraphed on a marquis
blue-golden glowing down on a darkened eve
snow falling, I want to hold tight to you
my rope over the edge, the last
stars I count before sleep, the name I pronounce
carefully, when the world is heavy on my back

When I fall, I hear the Earth whistle
"be sweet tonight" please
don't be subtle. Call me up or
barter me with dandelions, rocks,
light bulbs that would be stars, names, because
when the mist clears, when the moon
rises, when the snow is calculatingly piled
my feet tired from many climbs,
falls, and re-climbs, I want to see
our names, a matrix of memories and failures,
half-spoken actions, written near the sky
in some foreign city I have yet to love

When you hold my hands, I can
hear the end of things
and I am not scared of comets or satellites,
or the words that light up a snow-fallen night

S-N-O-T

I am feeling A-W-F-U-L
I am sick, with a runny/stuffy nose, a fever, chills, muscle aches, and coughing, as well as overall oooginess---this morning i even woke up with that weird crustiness over my eye, after having feverish dreams all night
The worst part is I got it from a friend I helped out when she was sick, who said she would help me when I was getting sick, but she has since turned off her cell phone and disappeared. B-I-T-C-H
I am also VERY close to quitting one of my jobs, as I have yet to start my thesis and get my French langauage qualification
And life is already overwhelming

In short, I am feeling very lonely and crappy and sick
and I have to grade 36 papers
and I have to send a funding application NOW
and I have to go throw up my soul

Scratch that last one...

attack of the heart

today, while teaching, i had another anxiety/heart episode
and i kept teaching for an hour after it started, thinking I could just pull through it
which was utter bullshit, but i wasn't exactly in my right mind

what with my heart racing, pulsing light a machine gun, turning me numb and whatnot

and after class, i think i might have just died or something, but my new friend S worked nearby, so i dropped by just to say hello, and ended up telling her what whas happening, so she let me stay at her work, and she hugged me because she felt bad for me, and sitting in a dimly lit room while she worked on her work, my heart stopped beating so fast and so terrifyingly

then i went home and made cookies, mousse, tea, and celebrated a craft night with some friends

"i get by with a little help from my friends"
-the beatles via The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula Leguin