Shared Thoughts of 4 Former English Students

No, Sarah, I totally agree with you. I think that the point of literature, or life for that matter is to find/to learn "life" lessons -- both univeral and person -- that will help us complete our purpose. The catch is -- well the catch for the academic community -- is that you cannot tell anyone what they should get from something, because then you missed the entire point of it. We all have differnt purposes, and thus different things we must learn.

Yes, there are underlying themes and ideas that are apparent in some works. We get used to identifying them (feminism, marxism), but on the larger scale of things, in a cosmic sense, those things don't matter unless we can tie them to ourselves in some way.

And isn't is amazing that we can be taken from such great heights in life -- as you were saying -- feeling like we are on top of the world, to drop to such sad lows. All within a day. Maybe that is the point of literature. To put those ideas soooo very close together -- within inches, pages, days of reading -- that we familiarize ourselves with how to handle those situations.

The weather is changing here, it is rainy and cool and I feel a need to start over. To re-invent and reassess. I have learned so much since I moved here, about people, myself, the world, how I want to be. It will interesting to see who I am in 6 months. Me, but different. Always changing. aren't we all.

Love you all.
CD

sorry that last post was so long and tedious. but i thought perhaps you could relate or open up a discussion about the topic of literature and what studying it critically does to the love of it. maybe it just me. what do you all say?

fyi: this post will be rather disjointed and long, because i am basically using this as an outlet to process thoughts and try to make sense of them.

I never realized New York City had so many hills. Okay, well not physical hills, but at least metaphorical, emotional ones. It seems the city consistently brings about bi-polarism in me. One day I will be on top of the world, queen of it all. Then, the next day, or even later in the same day, I find myself on the subway, staring off into space, wondering how I ended up at the bottom so quickly.

Last night was wonderful. I left the library feeling confident, happy, and even a little intelligent. You know, one of those moods where you suddenly feel that everything in the world could be yours.

Then this morning I woke up somewhat agitated for no real reason. Of course it never helps to have three people in one small apartment, but it wasn't my roommate or her friend that really bothered me, I was just generally rushed and restless or something. Anyway, I went to the post office to pick up a package, but they said it wasn't ready to be picked up yet. Ooookay. So I am running a little late, and the subway decides to be a local (more stops) instead of its usual express route. Plus it was the most crowded subway I think I had been on since I moved here. So, you know, my mood was only getting beaten on by a rather large flacid fish. Not pleasant, let me tell you. But I arrived at my destination - not work as usual, but a proposal writing seminar (excellent learning experience, but it was a total sit and listen seminar). Then lunch came and I was able to go outside and sit in Union Square, and it was one of the most beautiful days here in New York. The temperature was just right - a little autumn coolness perfectly blended with the shining sun. The sky was so blue, with perfect white clouds scattered about, that I felt it was a picture background. So, I ate my lunch, chatted with my sister and headed back over to my seminar - which was on 5th ave, providing a stunning clear view of the Empire State Building. So, there I was again, up on top, feeling like there was a camera spinning around me, with a happy pop song playing in the background.

By the time the seminar was over, I was ready to jump out of my chair. I was starting to feel agitated again. No real reason, other than I was eager to get out of there and there were a couple of things I needed to do before I got to the library to volunteer again tonight. So I was walking down fifth ave, not in a huge hurry anymore, just enjoying the gorgeous afternoon while still under pressure to get some things done in my 30 block journey uptown. I had enough time to play with that I thought it would be a good idea to duck into Daffy's (okay, that pun was really not intended, but haha - daffy duck!) and see if they had any good deals. It is a discount department store basically. Okay, well, shopping in general can be a dangerous thing even if I have money. Things don't fit right, colors clash, in the communal dressing room with mirrors and strangers all around, with no music playing. It was like some horrible B-grade movie that I was the sad star of. Anyway, I found some great pants that actually flattered my bottom half. But they were $30. Not a bad price for nice pants, but I couldn't really justify it. So I walked around some more, carrying around the pants, admiring a messenger bag I actually liked ($26) and still feeling somehow all of the sudden horribly unattractive, as some shopping experiences do. You see, I went into the dressing room with like 12 things - with good hope that I would look good in them, or they would actually fit. I walked out of the dressing room with one pair of pants. So I guess that maybe made me like them more. Anyway, I didn't buy them. I think I might go thrifting sometime soon, and see if I can't find some cool clothes. I wonder what people do who have lots of money to buy clothes a lot. It seems I can only afford to add to my wardrobe every once in a great while. But moving around a lot almost demands a portable, versatile wardrobe. They must have big closets. Man I am boring.

So anyway, I made it to the library, and only purchased a Clif bar. Life is okay now, but I still feel somewhat bumbling and unfashionable. Then, enter the professors of literature...

The topic this evening was about rereading books and falling in love with them again, or rediscovering new things or simply your old self in them. Excellent topic. Wonderful panel of authors. Then Q&A comes up, and I have a question rolling around in my head, and I sit there trying to process it into a conherent thought. I thought it was a relevant question, but I don't think I asked very eloquently. Basically, I was sitting there thinking about how hard it is to love literature when it is what you study. We don't read for the love anymore - it is to criticize, deconstruct, analyze, compare, memorize, theorize, etc, etc, etc. And it is all under a deadline. Even after school ends, if you are a professor, then you still have to do this. And you teach it. Of course, then you have to convince your colleagues of your brilliance by spewing forth theory and such. I don't know. I decided to ask how they "keep the love alive" basically. I got a generic answer, but really, I want to know. I do love books and reading and writing, but something has become formula about it. I haven't read the right books, or I don't like the right books. I mean, when did we become so set on the "cannon" as what is good? I would love to teach Literature and help students see how books can change their lives, but we end up spending half of the time trying to convince them that this particular book is what will change their life. Or that they should even read it. Or that a particular theory must be applied. Why can't I just allow students to learn from it in their own way? I know I can, but how does one get there in a world of such structure and pretentiousness?

That is another thing. I used to think that pretentious individuals only resided in particular academic worlds and such, but I realize that it is just part of adulthood. I hate that. It's like adults turn into football players, crawling over each other, trying to score big points, all the while flexing our muscles and winking at the cheerleaders. How did we forget that it is supposed to be fun? Or that we are all on the same team? (okay, well at least half of the players are). Anyway, this is so obvious everywhere. Just go on a date, or peruse the personal ads. Or interview for a job. Or attend a cocktail party at a university. We turn into name dropping barbarians, and we can't help it. I do it. Why do we have to grow up?! Can't I just splash around the pool all day without having a discussion about the chemical make-up of the water and what it will do to my skin?

But this happens with everything we love, it seems. Our world wants to classify and market. Look at religion. We love God/Creator, but we have to classify and theorize. Then it turns into us wondering what is it that drew us there in the first place. And marriage. People are in love! LOVE! But then 20 years go by and people say outrageous things like "I NEVER loved you." Okay, come on! You know you did at one point. How do we lose our passion? And if this is inevitable, then how will I ever decide what to focus my career on? If I am supposed to choose something I love, then I am ultimately going to kill it. Or maybe just learn how to separate it. That is really what I wanted them to answer. How do you teach literature and write, without looking at every book you read as something to be deconstructed rather than loved?

I don't know. My thoughts are like little kids on those bouncy balls, running around my head and heart. I want to love without feeling like I have to market that to the world. I want to learn things without using that knowledge to impress others. I want to keep passion pure. Is that possible? Can we be "respected adults" and still be passionate about what we do? Of course. I guess the trick is to just be true to what you know in your heart. I shouldn't try to impress anyone. Ultimately, it is me who looks in the mirror and has to accept what I see. Who cares if those pants don't fit right? They weren't tailor made for me. We are all wonderful individuals, and anytime we try to fit that into a pattern, there is bound to be a few snags and pinches. Until that pair of pants comes up that somehow makes your ass look okay, and doesn't squeeze your waistline so that it looks like you have on a tube of jello as a belt. Does it really matter what size it is? Or how much it costs? To some people yes it does. Because we look to each other for some sort of comfort. We look to the valleys to help us remember the hilltop, and in turn we appreciate the top thanks to the bottom. New York City may make me a little crazy, but it is only because there is always something for me to process and think about. It's like an amusement park for my mind/heart/soul. I'm just glad I don't get motionsickness!

sc :)

I used to miss school all the time. The feeling of sharing ideas and learning is wonderful, and so is the illusion of purpose. It was great to be in school for me, because I didn't have to justify or know what exactly I was doing. But now I realize, who does really? Life is school. "Everything teaches. Not everyone learns." I heard that once, and I realize it is true. You all have taught me something, and mostly it has come outside of the classroom. True, some of it involved chocolate syrup, but how yummy is that?! ;)

Okay, I must admit, I am a little buzzed right now. Tonight was my first evening as a NY public library volunteer. I got signed on to help out at special events, which are amazing lectures and discussions with authors and such. All I have to do really is sit at a table and smile. Then I get to go to the reading for free! Tonight there was a reception afterwards and it had an open bar and lots of munchies. So, of course, I had to have about 2 glasses of wine and 2 gin and tonics. And not just the cheap gin I usually buy, but the good stuff. It was fabulous. The drinks loosened me up enough to smooze with the library event staffers. We actually had a great conversation about literature, learning and public service. Yes, okay, Tom is right, I am some sort of hippy politician in a lot of ways, but really I just want to be good to people. Will you vote for me for President? Of course, I will take Miss Davis as my running mate. How could it get better than that?! You know though, it was such a strange thing. Here I was eating and drinking for free, but it was raining just outside. I couldn't help but look outside and think about those who were slightly more uncomfortable than I. What do the homeless do in the winter?!

I think I should get some rest now. Tomorrow will be another long, but good, day. I hope you all have wonderful days. Ones that constantly remind you how amazing you are. And how loved you are. 'Cause I love you. And Carla, you will blow those comps out of the water. And if for some reason you don't, well, don't let those fools tell you there is something wrong with that. As I tell Longefellow many o' times (and he in turn reminds me) "Doubt not, o poet, but persist."

keep persisting, my dear friends. I think of you often.

love,

s :)

I am freaking out. I do not want to take the comps in October, but I know I have to. What if I fail again. What if? What if?

This weekend was okay. I drank too much Saturday night -- and I still hurting today! I know I am getting old now. K was so mad at me. I guess he called me (I don't remember) and I totally was like, "ok, love you, bye." -- and he needed to talk to me about something. hahaha. bad girlfriend award goes to -- ME. (although the good girlfriend award went to me for the night as well, when one of the guys my friend Kasey and I were out and about with wanted me to make out with him -- i was like -- umm -- no -- i have a boyfriend -- i think he was trying to take advantage of my drunken state)

Is it weird that I miss school. I miss reading new things all the time and hearing people's ideas about them. I miss teaching. I miss Pittsburg.

I am buckling down tonight for some hard core studying. Wish me luck.

I hate tickling, it leaves the other person in the power position. I can't handle that. Having said that, playfully being tickled by someone you love (platonic or physical love, above or below the belt) is okay in moderation. Basically, if someone is pissing themselves or crying, it has gone to far. People often scream stop at the tickler and it reminds me of a drunk guy talking about how the girl "really meant yes, she was diggin' it." So I would have to say be careful on the ticklin. Yo.

I think it is great that you are writing, Carla. I hope to get the honor of being a proof reader. I have to say that writing, as letto well pointing out, not for a grade or portfolio is extremely gratifying. Whether that person is a publisist or say a girl that used to point out how much pot you smoke and now smokes and talks about it more than anyone else, or the english student that acts like a pot head, or the fucking liberal off in New York selling her soul to democracy and good will that probably votes on the legalization of it. While we are on the subject of you, I do know what you were doing in that picture (Brian and Letto may not be able to see it in that picture, but I remember where your hand was).

Lastly I would like to say that have warmed up to the internet and this blog thing. It is nice to have th immediate response of your friends, and some good debate. Not to mention that yesterday I saw a video where a guy was power lifting and shit out his intestines. I didn't know that was possible. Somewhere inbetween the "heremaphrode chat room" and "friends of Bush against the fags," is a little piece of all of us. It is truely crude, truely for a low attention span and truely 99% ingnorant bullshit. By god, it is truely American.

He had clumsy hands with fat inarticulate fingers.

For some reason thinking of his hands on me makes me think of curdled milk. It turns my stomach.

I know why I did it then, but the me today cannot justify it. A regret? Is that what this is?

Damn ex-boyfriends. You can forget them, but can you forgive yourself?

-CD

So i am super excited about my book. Tell me if this is dumb -- but I'm making brief notes -- only full paragraphs where inspiration strikes in certain areas -- and then am letting the story come together in my head before i start writing. Bad idea? Seems good to me, though.

As usual, Sarah, you've inspired me. I am setting out tonight to see more of the city. I tend to go home and stay there for the most part. There is supposedly this great Lake/Park in the middle of town and I am going to take my bike and go find some trails. Yeah! Fresh air, exercise. sounds like a win/win to me.

Question of the Day: Do you like being tickled?

My answer: yes and no. I enjoy the attention and the uncontrollable laughter it brings each party, but at some point it becomes mentally painful and i feel like biting whoever is doing it. Had quite the tickle attack last night. K is brutal. I could barely breath through the laughter.

here's to looking at the world in our own special way! (i took this at the museum the other day and thought i would share. Blogger is the only blog that seems to allow me to upload photos easy). But if you are curious as to what I have been writing online you can go to http://www.livejournal.com/users/caso/

:)

hey carla - i am totally with you. i was thinking almost the exact same thing this past week. i used to do things more impulsively, but then i looked around and wondered how i became so calculated. i mean, i just got to the city and already i have been thinking about the next step and what "career path" i will choose, or grad school then what will that lead to, etc, etc, etc. i guess that is the trick of a one year committment - it is great, but leaves the question so open-ended as to what is next. i usually love this. damn the world and its five-year plans!

gotta run now, but i wanted to say hey and "thinking with ya!"

sc :)

I'm not a coffee drinker -- occasionally I will have a nice specialty cup from Starbucks -- or a cup at work if I've had a reaaaaalllly late night, but the smell of coffee brewing is wonderful. Wakens the senses.

I've been fighting back one of my demons this past week. I tend to get really caught up in the "responsibility" of life. I make to do lists and spend all of my mental time organizing the order in which to do things. I get upset if things don't get done or go to plan. I worry about money non stop, etc. It is a bit of OCD creeping in I suppose. So I am trying to combat it by doing what I feel like doing instead of what I think I should do.

Should I have a second drink -- who cares! I want it. Should I smoke this? Who cares -- smoke it don't think about it. It worked nicely this weekend, but gosh dangit I feel guilty. Any suggestions?

oh and Tom -- I have NO idea what I was doing in that picture. I seem to remember Longfellow dancing with a blow up something, though. Was that the same party. Cause we were wasted! I think I planned on staying like 30 minutes and ended up there almost all night.

Smooch.

Speaking of feeling like college again...I thought you all might find this photo amusing. It's from my going away party last year (May 04). What exactly are you doing Carla?! :)

Carla - go for it on the book! that is great! I recently (last night) had a re-affirmation of the beauty of literature and writing. I went to hear Salman Rushdie (I love NY!) and some others read and discuss their works. He said something that really got me - "The reason for writing fiction is to say something about the real world." As a lit major, this is something that should have been really obvious to me; however, I had gotten into this mind-set that if i choose to pursue writing that it is completely self-serving. Of course, this isn't the case at all. Words connect people, teach people, and change lives. Just look at how the written word has affected all of us. I don't know how I could overlook this. I think I got caught up in the academic aspect of it all - that getting published was to build up a portfolio or resume. When publishing is really just getting your words out there for others to enjoy or learn from or react to. So in fact, my former mindset was completely contradicting reality. It could be said that writing and not sharing it is the most self-serving form of writing. Anyway, it was a moment of "ah-ha" for me. One I really needed. The connection between non-fiction and fiction really is so critical to understanding the world. Just look at the Vietnam class we took (well, Tom and I) - the film and literature attached to the war allowed people to get inside that world and try to understand it. Reality is the base, but it creates a jumping off point for the fiction to take us into a place the news cannot. Non-fiction writing tells us how it is, but fiction allows us to live it. It is so powerful. Writing and reading is as much a service to the world as anything else. I hope I don't forget that again. If I do, I hope there is always someone to remind me. Perhaps one day I will go to the library to hear one of you speak. But I hope you will at least give me a free pass or something. Don't forget the absent-minded little folks like me. The world sometimes just creeps up on me, and kills the passion of writing. Sneaky little bastard, that world. So, keep the words coming friends. They are beautiful, like you.

sc :)

I feel like I'm in college -- except that the housing department messed up and I am rooming with a boy, but at least my boyfriend gets to stay over and he doesn't mind. Imagine a room a little bit bigger than longfellow's bedroom -- and 3 grown people living in it. I don't want to see anyone in their underwear except my boyfriend, tom, and longfellow. I mean seriously.

So I've finally done it guys. I started my book. I talked to Longfellow about it a bit on the phone this week. I feel like I'm ready and the timing is right and the story in my head is good, but I am also intimidated because I've never "taken any fiction writing classes." -- though it is my personal belief that writers are born not made. (though it remains to be seen if i am either)

I just got mad writing that, because there was another one of our grad peers -- who will remain nameless -- that believed the opposite. That you had to study something to truly become it. I was like -- are you an idiot? And then I thought for a while more and was like, "oh yes. yes you are."

The book = young teen -- like 12-14. Fantastic -- imaginary world kinda thing. I feel protective -- I'll tell more later. And you'll all probably end up being my editors!

This weekend looks promising. The guys play tonight way over yonder in FW, but I think I'll go and see if I can drink on the band tab. Yay! A beer sounds good for only the third time in my life (exaggeration -- but seriously I don't normally like brews). The rest of the weekend is unplanned, which means sleeping in, smoking, and working on my story. oh -- and studying for the comps. yada yada.

Peace and love,
Carla

hey guys, just thought you should know what when i check this blog at work (as I am doing now), it brightens my day to see written words by three of my favorite people. so get to writing. come on people! okay, so that is a little demanding, but hey, what can I say, I am sort of bored here at times. I am sure that won't last long though. I am still a newbie, so I am figuring out just how many demands are on my time. I am sure I am supposed to be doing something useful right now. oh yes! planning tomorrow's meeting. But first - I am taking a short walk break. I ate pb&j at my computer, so I haven't really been moving much since I got in at 9 this morning. This experience is educational though - what happens when you put sarah in an office. will she explode? turn into a listless, angry, busy, day-planner attached to my wrist crazy woman? well, one can only hope so! haha

sc :)

okay, i know that I advocate for the elimination of gender stereotyping, but typically the female species wavers on the sentimental side of life. But here are the two males whining about the electronic journal. Of course, I share the same sentiment that handwritten is nice and personal, as is a handwritten letter better than an email because it is personal. But this blog is so much better, because I will actually keep up with it multiple times a week, if not daily. You'll see boys, it will foster our relationships in a wonderful way. And I say if the handwritten journal gets passed around, it can continue, perhaps with additional things, such as sketches, poop stains and other fine concrete items. I think men also don't like change, but I say to this "get over it and start typing!" Besides, I have terrible handwriting.

I just realized that I am the only one not in the central time zone. not that it really matters, but I just realized it so I thought I would type it. See that is the other beauty of this - I just type, I don't edit or try to recopy my sloppy handwriting and scribbling. typing is good for my self-image. or perhaps I need to depend less on computers. i am rather computer attached. i recently spilled water on my computer and it killed the keyboard. so i installed a new one all by myself. and it is amazing how much more complete my world felt after my computer was running once again. is that a bad sign? I mean, there is a lot of my writing on there, plus all my photos and music. and i use my computer a lot. it is my space. is that weird?

back to work - lunch was so five minutes ago.

sc :)

I feel like I should defend the online journal. Like I should tell you guys, "fuck you then," but alas -- I too am fond of the handwritten journal (and ok -- too fond of you guys) But -- I also understand that this medium allows us so much more freedom. We can read it anytime we want, and write in it anytime, too. So, eh, dont' knock it -- it works.

I've been having these random flashbacks lately. Could be the bunk (sp) weed that K and I got this week, could be that I am getting old -- tell me Longfellow -- does this happen to old people?

At least they are good flashbacks -- I'm like, wow, i did that? Like licking chocolate syrup off of your drunk graduate peers. ahhhh. Wearing a catholic schoolgirl outfit to a keg party -- and seeing your students. ahhhh. dressing up in a poop brown, one-piece, jumpsuit for a party -- polyester of course. ... concerts, dates, first kisses, last kisses, first times, good friends, not so good friends, first impressions, last impressions ...

But I am equally encouraged by the today of things, though. I miss school and I miss Pittsburg (good lord did I actually just say that?), but today is the best yet, ya know.

well, its 4:20. Catch ya later.
CD
(p.s. love you all)

maybe i don't need to add anything to the title. i just need some kind of action to get my eyes unstuck. i have twenty papers to grade in the next 2 days and i work 9 hrs at the library tomorrow! so i left my tobacco at home today since charlie and i agreed to quit after our last barrels emptied. i've already cheated and bought a pouch of Top...anyway, i'm terrible in the mornings, which is why i've sat here starting at the computer for the last 25 minutes, postponing starting my procrastination techniques of making a blog entry instead of grading. i could have coffee, but why have coffee when there's no cigarette to go with it?

i was 4 minutes late to my 8 o'clock class, and then i had to get more stuff from the office. i'm dedicated to riding my bike, and today was not good for cruising fast. kids going to school, jamming up the walkways...got behind a slow moving truck with exhaust fumes that left me temporarily unconscious. i came to just in time to avoid t-boning a school bus. i think i may have been playing footsie with aliens in the interim, but i'm trying to block that out. basically, it doesn't matter if i get up at 6:30 or 7:30, i'm always tearing it up trying to get to Grubby Hall before 8 a.m.

i will join you, tom, in expressing sorrow over the loss of the handwritten journal. why? perhaps because a blog is demanding. it needs to be fed and watered regularly. it needs to be petted and talked to. it will not tolerate being stored in the corner under a stack of papers, folders, or books for two or three weeks. it whines at night and wakes up early in the morning. and of course it nuzzles and licks and smiles and laughs and wags its tale or retracts its claws because it loves us. --should that be, "because we love us"?-- anyway, i just hope it doesn't crap on the carpet. i'll do the crapping around here.

It just started raining. I'm trapped inside, but somehow I can still feel it. Great. Now I'm going crazy. -- carla

I am technically supposed to be working, but i am sneaking in a post since in an office, you can pretend to work and really not be working at all. Sometimes I wonder how I get myself into these situations, working in an office and all that. But who they hell cares, it's New York City! Oh, Tom asked what I do. I am an AmeriCorps VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America) leader for the NY Community Health Corps. This means I work in the Manhattan office and coordinate things, plan training events and service projects, keep track of hours, write the newsletter, etc etc etc. I am basically the peer support person for my team. So far I like it. I have committed for one year, and after that I don't know what I will do. I miss teaching a little, so I may start volunteering for the library's literacy and writing center. But I don't want to end up running around all the time. But right now I don't have a home life to speak of, so I like being out and about, meeting new people and getting involved in the community (or defining exactly what that community is).

So, do any of you want to accompany me to an event at the library this evening? ;) Harold Bloom is going to be doing a talk on Whitman's Leaves of Grass. I had planned on spending the night in or around home tonight, since I have plans every other evening this week, but when I heard Bloom was going to be around I couldn't resist! I was trying to think of people I know who would want to go, but so far I can't come up with anyone. Where have all the English majors gone? How did I get into health care? It's funny how the world works. I put a post on craigslist to see if anyone wants to go with me. I wish I could've packed you all with me. Anyone want to move to NYC? We could live in the East Village and drink ourselves into oblivion while writing genius writings. Wait, I think that has been done already. Well, I think it is time for a Beat Generation revival! Whaddya say?

Okay, I have to get back to work, guilt is setting in now. love you all. did i mention that I miss you? Cause I do.

sc :)

I'll start off by being positive, I'm glad we have an easy way to contact each other. Okay, now we digress. I hate to sound stupid and sentimental here, but there is something extremely personal and beautiful about the hand written journal. I'll get over it though. I really hate the internet thing sometimes. By the way, if you lose this address to send in any updates, do not goggle "blogging" and "college co-eds." The results that you will find will be totally different. Acctually, Brian, you might want to go ahead and do that for experimental purposes. "I hate my job, I'm hung-over;" if you're ever wondering how I'm doing, picture me saying that. But honestly, picture me saying that with a smile. I don't have too much to add right now and even less time (this can be seen in the random thoughts of this entry and lack of any form, hence somewhat going against the fact that this is a former english student site). I swear I'll do better next time.

Longfeller: That's for looking out for my lord and savior, he gets scared when I leave him alone. Hopefully I can come down and play some baccammon (sp?) soon. When are you taking the comps?

Letto: So exactly what is your job up there? What part of town are you living in? People you work with cool? I'm going to look up a number for you and get it to you. My cousin has a variety show on broadway and the last time we (me and my sister) went up there we got free tickets and hung out with everybody, it rocked. Gone to anything culturally enlightening?

Miss Davis: What kind of underwear are you wearing? (Let's be honest, you're in fucking Texas. I'm not going there and cultural enlightenment and Texas don't exactly sound like they go together like peas and carrots does it?)

Love you all, miss you all terribly,
Tom

don't forget to put your name on the you entries somewhere -- title, end, etc.

i'll begin a mad grading session shortly--8 more to go, must return in 1230 class. i've discovered what i like doing when on the computer in the office. go to websites with music and let it play while i fiddle around or type assignment sheets or whatever. just enjoyed "Born" by Over the Rhine (who were in NYC last night Sarah!), available at overtherhine.com, and am now listening to a download from timeaston.com, a song called "Next to You." yesterday i was at bobschneidermusic.com --he plays his whole album online, plus introduces each song.

it's so good to have amanda home. she arrived to KCI at midnight Tues. on the ride back to
p-burg, talking was good, but so was being quiet. it's a blessing how we can appreciate things more, or at least understand there value, when they return after an absence.

if you're checking in Tom, i'm going to the Italian restaurant for Jesus tonight (that would be mr. Bolding's cross necklace) thanks for the reminder. peace y'all, my brotha and sistas

It really is rather humorous how a lifestyle that most would probably think is erratic and ridiculous feels like the norm now.

4 hour long practices shaking the whole house -- i find that I don't even notice (ok -- sometimes I do and I get kinda pissy -- i have to escape to starbucks for a while). The lead singer's girlfriend was over the other night and they were practicing. I put in a movie. We couldn't even hear the words and like 30 minutes later she was like, "oh my God. I can't hear anything. The whole house is shaking. This is crazy." And I was like, "what? are they still playing?" I had totally tuned it out and found I was reading lips. Hey --that's a new skill for me. yeah.

I do get some pretty awesome free concerts. Everyone sitting around the house with their acoustics, trying out different harmonies on new songs. They are really wonderful musicians when it comes down to it.

And if they are ever famous, I can laugh to myself as the girls throw themselves on them, "I know what they look like in their underwear -- and it ain't all that. (well except for my man, of course)"

When you're cooped up in an office all day long -- big windows, but stale air -- it is so nice to think of the prospect of sitting outside on my friend Antonia's patio. I'm picking up a big bottle of red wine on my way there after work and the thought of it really excites me.

I must say that I miss you porch, Longfellow. A little bit of Mexican music drifting across the yard, the college kids across the street bringing their puppy outside. The smell of a freshly rolled cigarette. Did I tell you I gave up smoking all together. Well -- the green stuff I still enjoy from time to time. But no tobacco for me. I'm trying to be uber healthy.

Today I am thankful for:
not being sick like everyone else in my office (knock on wood)
a really tasty orange I packed in my lunch
starting a blog to share with my friends

Much love All. Can't wait to see what we do with this!

hey all, new york city is fabulous, but wish you all were here so we could meet and chat over steaming cups, and tattered pages. Yet, I think this meeting space will do nicely for now. I will be posting more, but I wanted to stop in and drop my few cents in the bucket.

love

sarah