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11:17pm 18/06/2006
 
mood: Fulfilled and hopeful
music: Live Belle and Sebastian!
This entry is taking a page from James' book.

On Friday, I left work very much in love with life. I do not know why, but everything seemed so perfect. I had just spent the hours of nine to five working at the ol' AAS, and it was fantastic. For proof, I offer the following dialogue that occurred during the lunch hour:

"Look! It's an Oregon license plate!"
"What will they think of next?"
"They're letting anyone into the Union these days..."
"Shh! We need to balance out the slave states!"

There was then a few moments of loud, ringing laughter, followed by a moment of silence for the death of social acceptability that had just seized all four of these young history geeks. But it's stuff like that (along with arguments about how I single-handedly ruined democracy, discussions of manly plays, Bill's tales of Ireland and Egypt, and discussions of college life) that makes the job so fantastic. Perhaps what is most incredible is that we are, for the most part, strangers to each other. There is no reason why we should be this open with each other and having this good a time with each other; it would be simple enough for all of us to put on our headphones and tune each other out, but we don't. We reach out to each other and thus give ourselves new life. It's beautiful. And as I left this environment at five o'clock on Friday, the sun was shining on a beautiful day and I had some great music playing in my car, so I rolled down my windows and sang loudly. Wind came through my windows and I could ask for nothing else.

And what makes it all the better is that the whole summer seems so full of potential. I am reminded daily, both by outside factors and my own self-analysis, that I will not be able to do all that I want to do this summer. In fact, I won't be able to do a fraction of all I want to do. Everything is overwhelming, from the plans I make with friends to the trips I make to bookstores to the projects I have at home, but I suppose it will be alright. I know that my time is limited and I'll fill it with what I can. And wonderful things are already happening; I gain a wellspring of new and beautiful memories each time I walk out my door. In fact, I had the opportunity to share my best memories of some of my friends with those friends, and they shared theirs with me. The experience is one of the best I've had in quite a while. It's something I've wanted to do for a very long time, just hear people's favorite memories of other people. And I would like you, dear reader, to do the same. If it moves you, leave one of your favorite memories of anyone you care about. It can be someone we both know, someone you alone know, whatever moves you. I'm just curious. And I'm having great victories of art and literature. I'm finding books and music I've been looking for for quite a while (including a Belle and Sebastian live album I've been looking for for a year and a half and a book by a poet whose work I have not seen for a comparable amount of time). I'm actually finding time to read books and poems and plays, although not as many as I would like, and I wrote a poem for the first time in quite a while the other night. So things are looking up, and hopefully my joy will not be balanced out by pain in the next few days. I'm going to knock on wood though, just to be safe.

Although despite the beauty of everything, I learned one crushing fact tonight: Audrey Tautou is engaged to a man who is both a screenwriter and a poet. There's really not much hope for me winning her heart now.		  
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10:30pm 22/05/2006
 
mood: Excited for Regina!
music: I'm going to go listen to my new Regina Spektor
I have something at work called the "Cataloger's toolkit." It helps point out the mistakes I make in my catalog records. One of the options on that toolkit is a button labeled "Create authority." Now wouldn't that be the best if we could all apply that to real life?

It would lead to some really odd power struggles, though, when authority could just be drawn out of the ether and put onto someone. And everyone would have their own Sword of Damocles above their head. Would it be better, on the whole, to have everyone just whippin' up authority? It makes me a bit wary, but I'm excited to try it. I'll start tomorrow.		  
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12:12am 16/05/2006
 
mood: Really great!
music: Lately---David Gray
Gabe and I, at the command of our track coach, ran for four miles through Worcester in the moderate-to-heavy-to-sprinkling rain. And it was quite unpleasant at first, but after we swore a bit and got so wet that at times it was hard to keep my eyes open, it turned into a good time. I ran the last 3/4 of a mile through one continual puddle, deciding it was time to let go of the importance of keeping my feet dry.

And now, so many hours later, I'm coming up on the end of one of the most delicious and beautiful books I've ever read, and that is J.D. Salinger's "Seymour: an Introduction", and I have a whole list of books and plays and poems ahead of me. I'm approaching them like Christmas presents.

The gang's all back at the AAS (minus two of my best buds, but they live on in memories and outside of the AAS), and I'm already making passes towards Mike's theoretical sister. I honestly don't know if she exists.


Essentially, life is expandingly incredible.		  
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11:05pm 01/05/2006
 
music: If I Didn't Believe In You--The Last Five Years
My cat snores. I didn't even know it was possible for cats to snore. Weird.		  
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11:24pm 12/04/2006
 
mood: I'm not touching this one.
music: Milano---Sigur Ros
I have to say, that whole Zen Buddhism method of moving your focus away from the concerns and tribulations of the daily life to something completely illogical in order to achieve clarity and see logic in a different manner is really a spectacular concept. I think it certainly has its merits from time to time.

For example, in the midst of this emotional and mental maelstrom I'm currently involved in, what with the college decision process and the stress it's creating and the impact it's having on my ability to connect with people and the fact that entire hours seem to slip away from me without anything beneficial to SHOW for the passage of time...

I'm choosing to focus on this: I have figured out how to accelerate up the huge hill near my house with perfect acceleration, so that I achieve a smooth, constant speed that is neither too fast nor too slow and makes the five to ten seconds of driving up the hill incredibly enjoyable.

That's what I'm focusing on tonight.

Of course, in diverting my thoughts from aforementioned emotional and mental maelstrom, I'm probably just repressing all of my emotions into some location deep in my stomach. Eventually, I won't be able to handle it and I will POP! like a grape underneath a car's tire. That will be a fun day, as I will probably express my rage in a spectacularly yet pathetically impotent manner. Like half-heartedly punching out a friend and then being consumed by guilt as I apologize frantically to that friend.

I'm actually pretty happy, for the most part. Tonight's just fun. But I can accelerate up that hill like no one's business.

And just for the record, Highland Street and the WPI campus are great places for walking.		  
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10:41pm 29/03/2006
 
mood: Yeesh, I'm quite a mix.
music: A Wilco song I don't know, but it's live and good
It's kind of important that I clear my mind right now. Unfortunately, I have precious little time to do so and my head aches enough that staring at a glowing screen really isn't that pleasant.

But in light of all the things ahead of me, I just want to say this:

I truly love the way Bob Dylan says "muuuurder" in "Hurricane" off the 1975 Rolling Thunder Revue. And I love the way J.D. Salinger can say so much with his use of italics.


And good night, dear friends.

(Basically, this is all an attempt to blow off steam because tomorrow I find out about Brown, i.e. whether or not I will be accepted. People have been very supportive about the topic and I truly do appreciate it, but I'm nervous as hell. Tomorrow's going to be a fun, fun day)		  
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12:23am 18/02/2006
 
mood: I'm really good
music: Lazy Line Painter Jane---Belle and Sebastian
I'm feeling very good right now. Very good about how I am and what I'm doing, both right at this moment and in a larger, more universal (perhaps even spiritual? I might just be pretentious, there). And that doesn't come very often. I'm not full of self-hatred or anything like that, but often times I worry myself over little things that keep me from feeling completely good. So, in celebration of this goodness, you, dear reader, get to hear about it.

I feel like I'm making some actual growth into what I should be, in terms of the risks and responsibilities I'm taking. I started reading another Salinger book tonight, which might be the reason for this burst of introspection, but reading Salinger in my room just made me feel very satisfied. I could honestly think of very little I would rather be doing than consciously taking some time to myself to read something so fascinating. And besides my literary endeavours, I feel confident about the direction I'm moving in for many of the relationships I am in. I don't know if I'll make any true progress in forming or reshaping these relationships, but I feel good about the ideas. There are good people in this world, even the strangers I pass. (aaaand the people I almost hit in my car)

All this good-feeling and satisfaction only leads me to the conclusion that I will get hit by a bus or arrested at tomorrow's vigil. And while getting arrested at a protest might be something to write home about, the idea of a cop coming over to me and saying "Alright, buddy, that's enough silent prayer and candle-bearing. You're comin' with us" would be way too much of a karmic kick to the groin. Ditto for getting hit by a bus, but that would more just suck outright rather than be an ironic moment or anything like that. Until something greater lays me low, however, I'm going to keep with this good feeling.

I wish the same to you, dear reader. (Isn't it nice to see that Jane Eyre hasn't left us entirely?)

p.s. Oh, and the music is good! I really can't recommend Clap Your Hands Say Yeah's self-entitled album and Sun Kil Moon's "Tiny Cities" highly enough. And then of course, there's Wilco, Bob Dylan, and Dave Brubeck.		  
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10:48pm 16/02/2006
 
mood: Satisfied, accomplished.
music: Ocean Breathes Salty---Sun Kil Moon
Tonight, I attempted what I thought I would never do in my entire life. I faced my demons and drove through Kelly Square, telling my friend Cava to cross himself before we went through it. But we buckled down and plowed through there with great success (it wasn't too trafficy, in all fairness), except of course for Cava's comment of "All roads lead to Bancroft...EXCEPT THAT ONE!", which he yelled as I entered one certain road. And it wasn't that I freaked out at his comment, as much as it made me laugh so hard that I closed my eyes. Not smart while driving.

So Kelly Square, I gaze into the abyss and spit at thee.

Oh and good news, dear Worcesterites. There is a new (well, fairly new) coffee shop on Pleasant Street, right across from the Corner Grille. It's a lovely little place, a little less expensive than Starbucks (but with significantly better tea!) and a nice warm feel. The walls are a little bare and could use some more atmosphere, but I imagine it will come with time. So celebrate! We've got ourselves another coffee shop! Slowly, slowly, the phoenix of Worcester culture rises from the ashes...to what great heights shall you climb?		  
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11:34pm 22/01/2006
 
mood: Pleasant and optimistic
music: The Skin Of My Yellow Country Teeth-Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
I've been waiting a long time to write a lot of what's about to be said...

Ten out of ten college applications are in. Godspeed, dear applications. Please come back safely to me with LOTS of acceptance letters so that I know the last four years of hard work, lost sleep, botched relationships and a poor social life have all been worth it. If otherwise, I'll be so disillusioned.

Midterms are over with, and I enjoyed a few of them as much as one can enjoy a midterm. Religion and philosophy was especially nice. And Calc BC was not like a two-hour carpet bombing of the soul, much to my surprise.

The first semester of my senior year is over. I have made it through my senior thesis, the college application process, midterms, and the regular workload that filled the gaps. It's all over with, and I'm still standing with most of my faculties intact. Now, I feel like life will get better from what it has been. I have various ambitious goals for second semester, some of which won't happen due to the inevitability of life, but I'm eager to see them unfold and either take flight, not get off the runway, or explode in the hangar (thanks Calvin). Among them, I'd like to spend more time reading and writing (I woke up at 2 a.m. last night to write something, and it was delightful. The muse keeps odd hours), I want to learn to the guitar (because really, why not?), I want to spend more time with people, and perhaps even find a girlfriend. Everytime my mother and I fight, in the aftermath of it my mother always sighs and says "Baird, you need to get a girlfriend." And I'm not sure which is more disappointing: the fact that my mother thinks my problems may be small enough to be solved simply by dating someone, or the fact that she might be right. I'm not sure about the whole dating thing, though. For the time being, I'd really just like to have the time to spend with people and do the foolish things we do. And actually, this weekend has been an excellent beginning to such things. In four days, I've had four opportunities to spend with friends (and I know some of you shrug your shoulders indifferently at this, but let the hermit have his moment in the sun, thanks), and they've all been wonderful. And casual, too. It's more been a matter of us just being. Like nothing to stress over, nothing to worry about. We could just be, and I don't feel that life has given me many opportunities to be. I've always had to do before I could be (of course, Voltaire and maybe some existentialists would say it has to be that way, but, well, they're dead.), but now we can be until life has us step up again.

So things just feel optimistic. I feel like I'll have more time and more flexibility with myself.

Oh by the way, art museums are great places to imagine and guess.		  
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06:47pm 04/01/2006
 
mood: Pretty down.
music: Three To Get Ready---Dave Brubeck Quartet
So today, my heart broke a little bit. I read in the news today that Tatnuck Booksellers, the independent bookstore/restaurant in Worcester that I have been going to at least twice a month literally for as long as I can remember, has closed down. Just like that. I went there on Thursday evening and I had no idea that this was going to happen. Nothing suggested that its end was coming. But the paper had a photo of it, all closed down and dark. I have been going to Tatnuck since I could read. I know every stage of its evolution and I've reoriented myself with the bookstore each time it has shifted around. I have brought at least half of my friends to Tatnuck at some point in my friendships with them. I fell in love HARD with poetry there at the poetry readings I went to. Tatnuck has the best selection of poetry books I've ever found, and is one of two places I've found that sold John Hodgen's books (the other is in Harvard Square). I went there with my sophomore English teacher for dinner once. My family has had waiters and waitresses know our orders by heart, and we've known what they were studying in their night classes or college courses or what have you. We've known the owner and his wife for years. I was planning on having my graduation party there. I swore that if I ever became a very rich man (however the hell that was going to happen) I'd give a chunk to Tatnuck to bring it back up, because over the years I've watched it shrink and grow weaker: smaller book selections, fewer special events, smaller menus. It's been a little bit like watching a dearly beloved friend slowly succumb to illness. But I never thought Tatnuck would close. I'm going to the big sale on Friday to scoop up as much as I can, and maybe I'll see if I can take part of the place with me (I have no clue how to do that legally. Any ideas?). I don't want to see it go. So much of my life is in there.

this too shall pass, I suppose. Now I'm on a journey to find a new independent book store that has a restaurant and a coffee bar and a strong local poetry section and holds poetry readings and isn't too far away and smells like comfort and will let me collapse on the floor with my friends as we read through books together. Any suggestions?

p.s. maybe this is a little bit over the top for a book store and all, and I'm sorry. But I just needed to pour.		  
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11:13pm 17/12/2005
 
mood: A-bustin' with pride & love
music: Just the music in our heads that Jim danced to
Thus far, I have had an eighteen-hour day. Today was Holly Fest, the battle royale of speech tournaments. I woke up at 5:00 and couldn't get back to sleep because I was so eager to get out and start this thing.

And now, eighteen hours later, I am euphoric. In terms of trophies, this was not our best speech tournament, nor was it our best Holly Fest. Yet I feel it has been the most valuable and most wonderful experience as a team. Because today, we took up three full rows of seats in the auditorium. Today, we actually had a trail of speechies as we walked across the parking lot. Normally we're a dollop. A handful. Today, we were a stream, and I turned around as I was walking and just marveled at it all. It was so magnificent, that in just three years our Holly Fest experience changed from struggling to find eight open chairs to arrange in a circle in the corner (and later have those chairs stolen from us--probably by CM) to taking up four tables and still not being able to seat everyone.

As I said, it was not our best tournament, points-wise. Sal and Olivia did amazingly in DI, taking 3rd and 4th respectively, and Maia Selkow is the hero of the night. At her first tournament, the HOLLY FEST, she competed against roughly 58 other speechies in novice reading. And I reiterate--at her FIRST tournament, she broke to finals and took fifth place. If not for the fact that we were all really tired at the end of it, I was going to arrange a group of 'croft speechies to carry Maia out on our shoulders. And beyond that, people still did AMAZINGLY well. Agnes did amazingly in Declamation and picked up a bid for states and would have easily broken to finals had it been a different tournament. I believe this was also her first, maybe second tournament. And Allison and Becca are probably two of the most flexible and understanding people I know. You see, none of us told them that in a duo, you can't look at each other. Therefore, during warm-ups, approximately 45 minutes before their first round, they had to learn how to perform their piece without looking at each other. And they did, bless their souls. Basically, we had a bunch of novices who threw themselves into the raging river of speech and moved as though the water was still. So damn proud. And God bless the pentathelon speechies...13 rounds of speech, all in one day. Basically, Vanessa and Ivy and Brooke are my heroes for taking on such a challenge. And Brooke is a goddess among speechies. There she was, entered in four events...and she broke in three of them. That's sixteen rounds of speech that she shone like a lighthouse in. I honestly feel honored to be her friend, for she is an inspiration to all speechdom.

I feel the team just grew so much. There was so much opportunity to see so much of speech, and so much of speech at its best, and I feel like the team just got a wonderful chance to mesh and forge ourselves into something more than a group of speechies together for all Saturday. We really became a team, looking out for each other. I really felt like a leader today, handing out room numbers to everyone in the auditorium and then making sure everyone knew where they were going. But then again, I felt so incredibly supported when I went back to the table and five or six heads turned towards me with curious eyes and said "How'd it go?" And Wilma was there with us, looking every single bit a college student. Wonderful, love-filled Wilma who showed the new speechies just how deep speech loyalty runs. And when it wasn't speech, we were stalking look-a-likes and discussing some freshman named Mike, we were laughing at the way Will can make us laugh, we were figuring how you can kill a person with a dried rose, we were eating Margot's gingerbread house, we were discussing the purchase of a duck...And in that wonderful, extended-family way, I came across so many speechies who remembered me from earlier tournaments who I in turn remembered. We all call each other friends, and buddies, and fellow speechies. I don't know any greater sense of comraderie. And one kid from the Hull School told me that he came in first in poetry at the last tournament. I was so proud of him. All in all, I feel like bragging about this experience. It's so unique, and so perfect.

And at one point, I think I asked Allison what she thought about Holly. I'm not honestly sure if I did, but I might have. And she said "You got me hooked. I'm into speech." Now I'm not sending this to you as documentation to keep on hand in case Allison ever backs out. But I just want you to know how positive a reaction she had to the Holly and to speech, and how absolutely amazing I think that is. It was probably one of the highlights of my entire day, to hear such an open and honest reception of the speechie lifestyle (it's like the samurai code of honor...), and my heart opened up for all this. I really wish I could express more eloquently how much it means to me, and I think to the team as a whole, to see a newbie walk in to her first tournament and love it. She's like a second Winslow.

At the night's end, I learned one thing: no matter how one may feel stepping off the bus at the end of the day, arranging everyone into a group photo in one great frenzy and smiling so wide and foolishly will always make one feel better. I was starting to lag as I stumbled off the bus, but as soon as I handed my camera to my mom, I was ready to go do it again. And then we all exchanged hugs, and went our ways. I love and am so absolutely proud of everyone who boarded the bus at 6:30 this morning.

What a bangin' way to begin the winter break.

P.S. Harvard kid was back in original poetry, and he was still every single ideal of what I want to be. I'm not sure if I beat him, but I didn't break to finals in OP and neither did he. So I'm still happy. And original poetry was still the amazing category it has always been. This sixty-year old man DAZZLED me with poetry that he wrote in 1963. And Em presented this incredible collection of poetry with a really wide range that just made me want to go outside and think about it all. I also had some emo kids reading some poetry, but I suppose that's bound to happen when you tell a bunch of teenagers to write something emotional.		  
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05:13pm 11/12/2005
 
mood: Still enchanted
music: Photobooth (Live!)---Death Cab for Cutie
"Face it mom, the Nutcracker is a CHICK FANTASTY!"--Jeremy, from Zits.

Naaah....

At least, it certainly isn't when it gives you the chance to see your friend who you haven't seen in over two years, and not only see her, but watch her blow your mind with dancing to grace the lines of heaven. Ballet is such an inspiration. I cannot even begin to comprehend how much is going on in a person's mind and body while he or she is dancing ballet. It seems like a total awareness of every last cell of the body, like active meditation. Yet for all the movement, all the intensity, the grace and poise of the dancers transform them into a series of photographs. Every single movement seems intentional and crafted to an artistic masterpiece. It's all so enchanting.

Except for the Russian dance. That's like watching wildfire. And I think that any of the three dancers could quite easily leap over my head. Which is not to say that it's not enchanting, it's just certainly not as...tranquil.

And then,I got to observe the emmabird in her natural habitat (I think the stage is natural enough for her). After far too long, I finally got to hug Emma again. And that was just downright marvelous, to finally see her again after so many conversations. Hopefully, there won't be another such gap before I see her again.

The whole thing was a great deal of brightness in a rather poor weekend dominated by the college application process and the only dance I've ever been to that I wanted to have end early. Three hours of fairly generic dance music got to be a bit much. I realize that the music wasn't all the same, but it all blended into the same beat for me and I just wanted to hear "Come on Eileen". It wasn't that the dance was bad per se, just kind of boring. I had my fun there, but then I just wanted to go for a drive.

Dana's partay (and I will most certainly be calling it a partay for it deserves such a title) was another such spot of brightness, simply by virtue of her gathering some of her favorite people (handily enough, they were some of my favorite) into one room for a lot of indecision on meals (did anyone finish theirs? I don't think so), really good mousse, and general happiness.

Off I go. Break a leg, Emma (but watch your feet!)!		  
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11:38pm 08/12/2005
 
mood: Woohooooo! (internally)
music: 2.99 Cent Blues---Regina Spektor
This is another update about Religion and Philosophy. You'd think I have nothing else in my life.

Today, in that blissful, blissful class, my tiny little head almost exploded in the overwhelming ambiguity of language and the uncertainty of the world around me. Yet had my head exploded, it would have been in beautiful confusion rather than frustration or anger or anything even remotely negative.

In a blitzkrieg discussion, we debated how we know what we know, if what we know is there when we are born or if it comes along the road, we debated existence and whether or not if anyone exists when an individual is not there to see them. We did nature versus nature, the mind, we almost got into the soul because Noah really stuck that question to me ("What is the soul, Baird? Oooh, that was a sharp right hook), and we did the total subjectivity of the world. I felt like people were throwing bowling balls at me with the expectation that I was to catch them and juggle them. Needless to say, I went down hard, but I went down smiling.

I think I need to try something. I need to place myself in an area of overwhelming magnitude, either physical (Grand Canyon) or societal (shopping mall!) and I'm going to ask questions about every little thing I possibly can until I am up to my eyes in uncertainties and mismatched queries and I'm going to see if I can knock myself over with it all. For those of you who have seen it and need a comparison, think of what happens to the male love interest in Amelie (yeah I can't remember his name right now--the man Amelie loves) when his own search is fulfilled in the train station. I want THAT.

Winslow and I left the room walking a little funny, thinking about the soup in our heads and the soup that Winslow was about to eat. I went on to eat some really sub-par stuffed grape leaves.

But my God, what a fantastic experience. It was like lifting too much weight and feeling all my muscles tear, only it was wonderful rather than agonizing. Approach Immanuel Kant (he started this all) with caution, though. He will fuck you up.

Now I have to summarize my process of turning physical experience into cohesive thought while driving to school. In a paragraph.

Listen carefully to the wind tonight. It might just carry the sound of my head popping. And listen for the sound of my laughter after that.		  
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09:06pm 30/11/2005
 
mood: Admiring of people
music: Some Leo Kottke and Mike Gordon
Today in my religion and philosophy class, Mr. White stopped our discussion of separation of church and state and the level to which it is practiced/should be practiced in modern America. He said, and I blissfully quote, "You're thinking too hard." Mr. White asked us to simplify our thoughts, so as not to become lost in them and forget what we were there for (oral presentations on Islam). But we got to the point of throwing our words back and forth with such vigor that a teacher had to step in. It's like a mad scientist pulling the plug on his own death ray, for fear that it may take down his laboratory too. I find it so spectacular that we went beyond the limits set for us, and probably could have gone much farther with ease.

Hence, another experience in life that makes me love people all the more. It's a pity that there are no jobs that would involve sitting around with interesting people and talking about things great and small with them. I'm sure such a group could find some way to benefit society, or at least each other if nothing else. Doesn't that seem worth at least minimum wage?

Until that utopian point, we'll just keep talking amongst ourselves.		  
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01:02pm 27/11/2005
 
mood: Bitter and angsty. No good.
music: Cast No Shadow--Oasis
This is a little bit of teen angst on my part, but I'll justify it (as I always do) with self-righteousness. Because the angst is covered up (or so I like to believe) by a larger sense of social justice.

So I found out last night that my good friend Andrea, who is at Brown (!!!), is involved with the Queer Alliance there (like GSA). And one of the things that the Queer Alliance is doing down at Brown is pushing for the legalization of gay marriage. However, since Rhode Island is so small, they've actually been going to the state gov't buildings and meeting with elected officials face-to-face to bring about the change more directly and more rapidly. And I think that's absolutely amazing, that these college students are taking such an active role in something this important.

But that's not what my father thinks. When I told him this last night, with pride and excitement, he looked back at me somewhat disapprovingly and said "Yeah, well there are better things you could do with your time." Yep. Better things than help people be able to express their love for each other in a meaningful ceremony. It was kind of a slap in the face to hear my father talk about the issue with such disregard. I plan on sending him a series of pictures from college in which I am drunk off my ass and doing shameful, idiotic things, like writing obscenities on the face of my passed-out drinking buddy. And at the end of it all I'll write "Well, at least I'm not trying to get gay marriage legalized!" And I hope my dad will breathe a deep sigh of relief. What a waste, taking an active role in politics and social justice to help people obtain the right to GET MARRIED. To help bring greater EQUALITY to society.

While I'm ranting, I might as well carry it one step farther and lose the self-righteousness. Now I'm just being self-centered. A week ago or so, I was telling my dad about the book "Nickel and Dimed", which is one woman's first-hand experience in holding jobs that pay what are essentially poverty-level wages. It talks about the difficulties that lower-class laborers face in America, etc. etc. My dad's only response to this was "You know, I bet a lot of those people are teachers." Again, a nice little dig at what I'd like to do in life while simultaneously disregarding something that I think is incredibly important. I know I don't have to listen to my father, but it would be nice if he were a bit more accepting of what mattered to me. Even if he doesn't openly support me, it would be nice if he wasn't openly detracting.

Angst sucks.		  
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01:51am 26/11/2005
 
mood: Euphoric
music: It's late. There's no music.
At long last, I have finally seen Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It's been over a year since I've owned the movie, and now I've seen every beautiful moment of it.

And there's no calm after the storm, no bubble-bursting, no cliched anticlimax at the end of it. I feel so absolutely complete (even though I probably shouldn't...thanks, Clem) by it. It was unique, it was so very real--there were a handful of moments that, to me, actually felt like a home video. That it was just life happening as it happens, and I realized as I saw those moments that there are so few movies, or even artforms for that matter, that truly recreate, not mimic, life. And there are innumerable works of art that I love and enjoy and find purity in, but only a few have presented life as though I was staring at a mirror. How absolutely magnificent. It was a blend of artsiness and reality unlike anything else I've seen. It's not my favorite movie, but I think for now it stands in a category by itself. I have tremendous respect for everyone associated with this film.

And can anyone tell me how the film was shot? I'm curious as to the camera type/film type/what have you that produced the effects that I really can't explain in any sort of physical medium (words, paint, movement, etc.). Sorry for being vague.

And furthermore, I think Clementine's walk towards Joel as she went to say good-bye to him at that house on the beach was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, beautiful for its reality and simplicity and the anticipation of what was to come.

But it's 2 a.m. I really should get to bed.

Goodnight.		  
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10:47pm 20/11/2005
 
mood: I'm glad the thesis is over.
music: Some Sigur Ros
I finished my thesis. Final draft, this time. Which is very nice, because it means now that I can return to the goal I set for myself earlier this weekend.

And that is, my friends, killing Wal-Mart. I saw a wonderful documentary this weekend with a few friends and it really got us raving mad, in a wonderfully self-righteous and surprisingly logical manner (logical madness--what next?). I won't say what atrocities Wal-Mart has committed (instead I'll just emphasize to no end that all should see it, for it is illuminating. And the DVD is only about $8. You can't get that good a deal on a DVD), but I will say that it was enough to get four teenagers wholly dedicated to dismantling the Wal-Mart corporation, drafting plans from petty vandalism to calling for unions to getting jobs at Wal-Mart to hunger strikes to more aggressive tactics, like say driving my car (since it was the biggest) through the windows of Wal-Mart. But you will be pleased to know that we decided violence wouldn't get anything accomplished (martyrdom being the exception), and if anything it would only create more work for the already overburdened and woefully underpaid and undersupported Wal-Mart employees. We did, however, visit a wal-mart and gather further ammunition (we could have done so in a literal manner) for our crusade. Perhaps one of the best quotes I have from the evening is "I don't feel like I'm a store. I feel like I'm in the house of someone I hate." I think that's incredibly poignant.

I should also mention, more for amusement than anything productive, that while we were driving around, all four of us were screaming a lot. Ultimately, plans were abandoned (in favor of chocolate cake), but we picked up some information at Wal-Mart and hopefully we'll actually try to organize something. Even if it isn't full-scale revolution, it would be nice if we could put our heads together and make some sort of mark on the map. Even if that mark is just a burning crater of where a wal-mart used to be.

Just kidding.

And in other news, never listen to your friends when it comes to parking advice. Only you know how you park and where you can park. Anyone else who gives you advice, well-intentioned as it may be, will ultimately lead you astray.		  
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08:20pm 13/11/2005
 
mood: Emotionally fulfilled
music: At Least That's What You Said--Wilco
John Hodgen has signed my shoe (my celebratory cons, to be precise). Oh yes he has.

Today was the second day of the writers' conference, and John Hodgen gave the keynote address and talked about what it is to be a writer and what writers look for. And he explained it, and he gave me all the hope that I've been losing over a long period of time. He said what happens to a writer, what a writer does and must do, and there was so much in there that strengthened me. He answered so many questions I have about myself, and if nothing else, he's made my self-analysis so much easier ("Why the hell did I do that?! Oh, yeah, I write"). And I can't possibly attempt to describe what he said (ironically enough, I can't write about writing), but my God it came to me clearly. I have direction, now, between John and the man from Northampton (who Mally hopes of meeting--this means another Northampton trip).

And John only read us one poem, but as he explained the meaning of the poem (before reading it), Mally and I looked at each other with realization and excitement and it honestly felt like hearing the opening notes of your favorite song by your favorite band at the concert, the song you and your friends have been praying to hear and wondering if they'd play it all evening. And the simile works because the only other celebrity to have signed my shoe is a rock star.

Also, I wrote a few things at the conference that I am surprisingly pleased with. And this is wonderful, as I haven't written a single thing since school started that was longer than two or three lines. So maybe now that John has explained it all to me, I can start writing again. I feel like Breadloaf gave me the inspiration and emotion to write (I did meet a muse, after all), and now I have my direction. So maybe I'll start getting things done.

And on a separate note, congratulations to the speechies who kicked such major ass at Gracia Burkill. Sal--Second in DI, Olivia--1st in DI, Kristi--1st in HI (with a score of 7! The HIGHEST you can get is 6!!!). Those three all got bids for states, plus Kacie and Kate. And we had a bunch of novices compete, which is awesome. Way to jump into the speechie pool! I'm so amazingly proud of all of you...hugging all of you (or as many as could fit on one person's body) at once and almost falling over was one of the better things I've done in quite a while. Exceptional amounts of love to all of you. I wish I could have been there with you guys.		  
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02:48pm 06/11/2005
 
mood: Very, very good.
music: Maybe Tomorrow---Stereophonics
In Northampton, I met a man in my shoes, and I think he may be a mystic or a sorcerer, because he knew so many of Will's characteristics and he told me the tale of my plan for helping people and he also led me to the "balance" card (I'm a libra, and although I try not to put too much faith in horoscopic signs, balance is important for Libras and it matters a lot to me). And he and I had the same shoes in a big place, yet we found each other. I can only call it magic. He asked me if I was James Bond when I pulled out my cigarette-pen.

But the MMW concert was not magic, although I cannot explain it. But basically, it was the most hypnotic and intense concert I've ever been to. Medeski plays the keyboards with scientific precision and experimentation, but he looks frustrated. Martin plays the drums like a man possessed and he bounces around to all these little percussion instruments, tapping on them like a child trying to see how he can make a toy work. And Chris Wood, whom I now love, plays the stand-up bass like he's dancing with a lover. He knows that instrument so well, and he's everywhere on it. The result is music that makes me dance like a crazy for about three hours (I'm not honestly sure how long it was) and not notice it at all. And I wasn't the only one dancing like a crazy--there were many, many others, and we were totally amorphous. I mean, you could tell where I ended and where others began, and there was no great connection bringing us all together, but we were without definition. MMW had the names and faces, we were just bodies. Perhaps one of my favorite moments was hearing Ricky, who could appreciate the concert on a musical level far above mine, saying "YES!" each time a string of music struck home in him. Goodness, it was great to see him smile like that. Ricky's height was also very valuable in getting through the crowd. No one argues with a tall man.

I was also tempted in Northampton to buy a flower-printed vest for $8 (it was hand-embroidered, too!), but decided not to. I figured that if I didn't end up regretting the purchase, my friends would make me do so. I love Northampton. It's slipped underneath my radar, and I really need to reconsider it. It's got so much groove.

And the car ride down was discussions of diversity and racism (more from that ADL day), and the car ride back was discussions of how we (as in the five of us in the car) handle our lives and interact with our parents. It turns out Vanessa and I have similar demands put on us, which was pretty cool to realize. And one of the most wonderful things of all was the fact that despite being with Ricky, Vanessa, Emmy, and Will, I never felt like a fifth wheel. The two couples were affectionate and very sweet, but I never felt awkward or ignored (although I think two college girls laughed at me. But they were dancing like I was...). So thanks, friends.

Then, it was up til three-thirty (on a really lovely night) with Will, including a stop at Tortilla Sam's (bless them for staying open til 3--I was ravenous) and me finally celebrating my turning 18 with a true rite of passage--I bought a lottery ticket. I didn't win anything, but, hey, the state of Massachusetts got my dollar. Will told me that the dollar is going to go to someone who doesn't deserve it. That depresses me (it was my hard-earned dollar!). But oh well. Will then told me to get another one because he thought I was feelin' lucky, but we decided against it. And the man at Sam's agreed that that was wise (he also asked, once we told him that I was 18 and honoring my age, if we had gone to a strip club yet. Slight awkward pause there)

And with Will, we discussed everything from America's value of foreign language (we're arrogant--big surprise!) to the difference between a good concert and a good time at a concert (MMW is the former, Wilco is the latter) to romance (well of course) to colleges (nothing happens without some discussion of that) to relationships (romantic and otherwise). It was magnificent. I had a 21-hour day (thank you, SATs), and I can say that I loved every minute of it. Even taking the SAT's wasn't bad, because it justified the rest of the day spent rockin' out and having magnificent conversations and ultimately being very, very happy and feeling very free. Leaving Will's today was hard, because it was the end of so much greatness. I listened to Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot on the way home (my car's cd player is a fickle mistress), and felt like crying for the serenity and happiness of it all. Like crying would purge the last few feelings out of me before I started back into my familiar world of essays and homework assignments. But it was all beautiful.		  
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08:02pm 24/10/2005
 
mood: Feelin' good.
music: Sweet Marie---The Anniversary
I'm not much in the habit of making regular posts, but today was such a wonderful day that it deserves some recognition.

Today, the rough drafts of the senior thesis were passed in, and for the first time in a while, my senior friends and i were relaxed. We joked around and celebrated and we were laughing. For the past few weeks, there hasn't been much of that. So to see people in my math class not praying for the end was a lovely, lovely sight.

To celebrate properly, Will, Nate and I visited the ol' stompin' ground...the place of employment we once attended so faithfully...the American Antiquarian Society. And upon greeting Meg, Will says "Hey! You're still employed!" We recommended afterwards that he say next time "Hey! They haven't canned your ass!" And I must admit, it was really fun to reminisce about the people from this summer, and I realized that I really do miss the place. Or rather, the people in the place and Will's disk gun and Nate's white gloves.

After the wonderful reunion, we went to the Goodwill store, where we bought, among other things, the Ace of Base album for $2 and I got a big American flag for a dollar. On the way back, we were BLARING the Ace of Base so loudly that my car was shaking, and Will rolled down the window and flew the American flag. We were so patriotic, and I haven't laughed so hard in a very, very long time. I almost hit an eighteen-wheeler I was laughing so hard. And it was great to be with Will and Nate again. We hang out and all, but with the three of us back in the car and ragging on the AAS and Worcester, it felt like the summer again. Again, I didn't realize how much I missed the three of us.

Mr. Gal also lent me two tapes of T.S. Eliot reading his own poetry, which I think will reinvigorate me for poetry writing (now that I have time again...)

So, LAUGHTER. And happiness. Back at school. The result is magnificence.

Oh, and if anyone has any ideas for what to do with the American flag, please let me know. Currently, it's in a bag in my backseat, waiting for something to do. Ideally, it would be great if the suggestions don't end in my arrest. But if they do, well, we'll see.		  
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