Weekend Moments

I had two really wonderful moments over the weekend.
My Saturday moment occurred around 10:20pm. I was walking across campus to attend a party my friend was throwing. The night was beautiful; the air was crisp and cool, neither humid nor cold. Not to brag, but I looks so freakin' cool; I was wearing these jeans that make my legs look really good, a peach colored, lace top with sequins, topped off with my bamfy black jacket. The party, I expected, wouldn't be very well attended and the music would be mediocre, but I take what I can get; without expectations, you're never disappointed. I was just glad I had something to do on a Saturday night, that I'd be doing it with friends I rarely get to see and that I was going to look good doing it. Just when I felt on top of the world and super excited for this party, the song “Where is My Mind” by The Pixies started blasting from someone's dorm room. This song was so loud, it was as if the building itself were belting it. The song and it's disembodied blaring so perfectly illustrated the moment, capturing my mood indifferent satisfaction and contentment. Were I a smoker, I probably would have leaned against a tree and lit up.
My Sunday moment occurred around 6:10 pm. I had gotten back to my room from an early dinner with two friends I never get to eat with and had decided to watch Blue Velvet, a film I knew nothing about but had heard referenced so often, I decided it was worth watching if only to know what everyone was talking about. About 15 minutes into the movie, the clouds in the sky started rolling and billowing, like smoke out of some great celestial pipe. I had seen the storm approaching on my way back from dinner, the navy blue hue of the sky foreshadowing the thundering downpour that was sure to come. I paused the movie and leaned on my window sill, watching as the sky changed from navy to olive green then to a faded yellow. Then the rain came. There were only a few claps of thunder, more wind than anything, but the downpour was so devastatingly beautiful. As it got underway, I went back to watching my movie, paying more attention to the weather than the tv at points. The rain stopped within half an hour and I was a little sad. The movie was okay.

The eyes are the windshields to the soul

I think that a person's car is like an autobiographical symphony to the senses. Everyone I know who has a car manages to make their vehicle a tactile extension of themselves. Beginning with smell, one of the key senses of memory, the smell of a car really indicates a lot. I'm not talking about stink; that usually just means you need to clean your car, or something died inside it, or your brother was driving it. I'm talking about the smell that gets stamped onto the very illustration that is a caricature of your car. Two cars which come to mind is one that belongs to the only person who regularly reads this; her car smells distinctly of chocolate Lipsmakers lip balm. I don't even think she uses Lipsmakers, yet somehow this scent has become the strongest identifying feature of her car. The second car that comes to mind is the one I caught a lift to brunch in this morning. This Volkswagen smells deliciously of cigarettes. Now, I know the words “deliciously” and “cigarettes” shouldn't belong in the same sentence, but the scent is more than tobacco and poison set on fire. It's the scent of clove, tobacco and poison set on fire, all mixed with the scent that was already in her car (one that was a combination of moldy bread and clean laundry). It's magnificent.
Moving on to the actual items to be found in a person's car, they are so very telling. Even if a person's car is spotless, this still reveals a lot about where that person is in their life or in their month or in their week. The ratio of items on the floor to set ratio is worth noting. Patterns too should be paid attention to. Are there an inordinate number of coat hangers strewn about? Or maybe bags or cups from a store or eatery he or she likes to frequent. Books, magazines and foodstuffs are another good indicator. While riding in the deliciously cigarettey car this morning, I couldn't help but notice there was a case of root beer in the back seat. Seated next to it was a worn copy of The Princess Diaries. The book, not the movie. I pointed this out to my friend, to which she responded, “Yup. That's me. This is my car. You're in my world.” So true.

Like, Oh my GOD!

While, admittedly, I do have an altar ego who is a 14 year old boy named Frank and another who is a nameless 65 year old man, 33.3% of the time, I am such a total girl. High point of my day: buying a lovely white cotton dress in the campus center for $2! Not only does this combine two of my favorite things (pretty dresses and bargains), it also gives me something new to wear on May Day or Graduation. It's so flippin' cute; it's a foux wrap cut, with a collar and short sleeves. Very Ozzie and Harriet. I'm contemplating shortening it, but for now I'll look super 1950's domesticate. This girly mood continued at lunch, during which I spent about 25% of the time making eyes with this blond dude having lunch with his professor. They spent most of the time talking in Chinese, so I couldn't understand what they were saying, but every now and then he and I would glance at each other and share a momentary smile. :sigh: Spring is in the air.
I don't mind that the above bit makes me sound like I'm on feminine over-drive. It just acts as a bizarre counterpoint to my two other egos.

Blow me to Bermuda!

There is a librarian here who I’m certain is a wizard. I’m not kidding. It’s bad enough this school looks like Hogwarts, they don’t need to start hiring people engaged in the magical arts. Though, I must admit, they did hire him before be became a wizard, or at least, before he took on the appearance of one. The fellow has long white hair that hangs down to his shoulders, whisking about him as he walks. His facial hair, though, is very short, creating a sort of interesting contrast from the neck up. I can’t tell you how many times I come into the library to do work and end up just staring at this man as he sits behind the reference desk. I can’t quite call it stalking yet, because I haven’t been caught.
I always want to go to him with a research question, but I never actually have one when his shift is scheduled. Maybe I should just make one up. Really, though, I just want to ask him to teach me everything and anything he knows; he must know EVERYTHING. I wonder if he has a talking owl?

Universal Threads

There’s an odd satisfaction I get when I go into one of the public computer labs on campus, wiggle the mouse around to wake the screen, and discover that I was the last person to use said computer. For some reason, it makes the moment feel special, like the computer was waiting for me to return, that it was completely serendipitous that no one else used it in the 14 hours since I had last been there. It made me feel like I was meant to be right where I was in the world at that moment in time-space. This satisfaction was, of course, followed by extreme frustration as the computer then took close to 7 minutes to load. In all of 2 seconds I had decided this machine was a douche bag and needed to be destroyed.
It’s funny how quickly time-space, the very fabric of reality, can unravel.

"Stand up... just like that."*

I just came back from a comedy show in Philly. It felt great to get off campus and laugh my ass off for a good two hours. Okay, so it wasn't nonstop laughter. In fact it was far from it. One of my friends is writing her thesis on a couple of comedians in the Philly stand-up circuit and wants to interview audience members. Rather than trying to track down people at the shows she goes to, she invited me and a couple other friends to go down to The Helium down in Center City. Hot tip: Tuesday nights is free because it's Open Mic Night. There's a two item minimum per person, but none of us got anything and it didn't seem to bother anyone.
In stand-up, comedians either kill or die. There was some serious murder and suicide committed on that stage. The comedians that did the best jobs knew the audience; college aged, mostly female. The misogynist jokes and stories about kids didn't really go over well. One of the best acts of the evening was this 18-year-old kid. He got major points for using the work “apothecary” in his act. I think I'll be blowing off my work most Tuesday evenings from now on, provided someone will drive each time. This seems like one of the best deals in town.


*Luda

Ruminations on (fecal) matter

There's a particular revelation I had about myself recently that I thought was worthy of breaking my recent absence from posting. It's something I realized has changed since coming to college. When I first arrived here, I was extremely reserved. I'm still fairly reserved, but I've grown quite comfortable with myself in general. Specifically, I noticed that I now am able to take poop in the presence of others. No, not like right in front of someone, but in a public bathroom, if someone else is there, say washing their hands or also pooping, I am comfortable enough to do my business and not care what the other person is thinking. THIS IS HUGE! I can't imagine myself being anywhere near comfortable enough to poop in the presence of another. I guess I've really come into my own as a person. Or maybe pooped into my own personhood.