More old poems

The Vineyard
My father once told me a story
About a grape and a blushing bride.
Outside a small province in France
There was a vineyard.
Within this field,
The vines embraced the sun
And stretched their roots to the center
of the earth.
Understanding the need to grow
And the necessity of being anchored
to the past.
On one of the vines was a lonely grape
who
Had no other grapes to pass the days.
The grape yearned to have a
Lifelong companion
For sharing hardships.
As the days melded into one another
The grape grew strong and confident
that
It was the grape in the field.
Then the season came and
The farmer cultivated the ground
With much love
And nurtured the plants until they were
plump
And ready to be picked.
The farmer’s sons gently plucked
Each crimson grape with callused
fingers,
Fingers that were rougher than the plants’ roots.

The farmer’s daughter washed the
basin of grapes,
Tears trekking down her cheeks.
Tears for the man she loved,
The mother she lost,
And the child she wants.
Tears for
Everything.

The small family crushed every grape
And bottled them in the finest glass
they could find.
Years passed
And dust gathered on the bottles.
A day of celebration finally came for the
family
And the aging daughter.
After years of patience and
Holding onto the love
She knew to be true,
Her one and only came home
To be her lifelong love.
Plans were made and invitations sent.
The home was decorated with care
And bottles of wine from years ago
were
Prepared to be shared with friends and
family.

Her day finally dawned and the
daughter
Cried her tears again.
Tears for the field she was leaving,
The absent mother,
The family with whom she yearned to stay,
Tears for
Everything.

The farmer found his daughter
And wiped her tears with hands
As smooth as satin.
He knew her fears and handed her a
Glass of wine.
Holding her close he said:
”Drink this and know that there will
Always be a part of us with you.”

A Funny Poem
I want to write a funny poem.
A poem that makes you go:
Ha! that’s funny.
A poem that makes people think about
Lemmings.
Or about the scent of letters.
And I would like to state for the record that
The letter T smells like tea,
Ya’know like green tea, like herbal tea,
And I’m not talking about Herbal Essences
Take me into a sweltering rainforest
With a half naked man
Herbal.
I’m talking about the herbal tea
That makes you wish for Listerine
To pour into an open wound.
I want to write a poem that makes people
Think:
Hey! You’re right, we do focus too much on
Celebrities.
A poem that says:
Listen up! I promise I’ll make a point
Before we’re through.
A point that changes how you see the world.
A point that makes people realize that
Jokes about genders and races
Are not actually funny.
And that family is not something to tolerate on Holidays,
But a unique gift that some will never experience.
Shit, there I go, saying I want to write a funny poem
And then flipping the plot and making you think.
Maybe it’s not that I want to write a funny poem
As in Ha-Ha, you’re so clever,
But a poem that makes you go
A-Ha! You’re making me think about something new.
A poem that by simply being read,
By making you go, Huh, I never thought of that,
Can make you see the possibilities.

Untitled
I want to have the mole on my right shoulder removed.
It’s just a little itty-bitty thing about the size of the tip of a pen.
I want to have my nose restructured;
It droops just a little bit at the end.
I want to dye my hair the deepest shade of raven.
Why?
Because it’s my hair and my choice.
I want to have my stomach stapled,
My thighs sucked,
And live my life the way I want
Without anyone telling me that God gave me this body
And I should let what it is,
Be.
Well, that’s what free-will is all about.
Choices arise and they are mine to evaluate.
Not yours.
I want to have the freedom to do what I want with my body
And not have have others impose their beliefs.
If I get pregnant, I don’t want someone telling me
That I will go to hell if I make this choice.
This is my life, with my choices, and my beliefs--
If you let me live my life according to my beliefs,
I will let you live your life according to your beliefs.

Battle Cry
Standing on the edge of the world,
An edge that I cannot change--
Yet I yearn to make a difference.

Mounds of blood and sweat and tears.

Serbian blood
Croatian blood

Feeling the pain of times
From long ago
Of times yet to come,
Knowing I have no understanding of the
Enormity of the pain and agony.

Walking past the world that I used to know
Into one that I will never truly know.
Crackling bones and ripping skin
Blood that sticks and dries on the soles of my shoes
Sticks to and dries upon my soul.

Wanting the world to change and hurt no more
Shuddering and shaking and
Feeling the tears that I have shed
Are no comparison
To the tears that have flown here for centuries.

Passive Aggressive
Every time that you ignore me
I want to punch you in the face.
Every time that you invite others to go out
”With us”
In front of me—without acknowledging me--
Every time you guilt-trip me into apologizing
For things I did no do,
At least intentionally,
I want to scream at the top of my lungs.
Every time you make me feel inadequate,
Push me aside for
More important people
And make me feel worthless,
I want to tap your shoulder and say:
”I thought we were friends.”
Every time people tell me:
”Forget about it.”
I want to say:
”But I would never do that to one of my
Friends!”
When I walk into the room and others warrant a
Hello, but I don’t
I want to jump up and down
To get your attention.
Every time you grab my heart and twist
I want to turn your face to my tears
And make you realize the things that you do,
But I can’t do any of these things because
You are the one people worry about
Pushing into a depression.
And to all of these worries
I want to ask:
”But what about me?!”

A Chubby Girl
A poem is like a chubby girl
Frolicking on the beach.
The day is warm.
A comfortable warmth,
So that swimming is warranted
But not sweltering
Like the heat of an
Insult unjustly thrown.

A poem is like a chubby girl
Enjoying the sun’s gentle nudge;
The one piece suit
Cupping her bulges appreciatively
Accepting her subtle way of breaking norms.
Knowing the way things are
And wanting to change the status quo.
Running along the shoreline,
Pirouetting in the tide and
Enjoying Poseidon’s nonjudgmental splash.

A poem is like a chubby girl
Wanting the world to understand her beauty,
Feeling love for every swatch of skin,
Every handful of fat
And every bulging cheek.
Aching at the confusion
She feels tossed her way;
Yet accepts the truth and beauty in her life
May only be seen in her eyes.

Old Poems

Give Me A Heart
Watching you back
Fade away I have one thought:
Give me a heart.
Give me a heart that won’t love you forever
And knows when to let you go.
Give me a heart that doesn’t
Crack
Break
Bleed
Die
Disintegrate into nothingness.
Give me a heart that
Will
Be again
Beat again
Hold again
Love again
But never have to let go, again.
Give me a heart that is okay with letting you go
Without knowing why,
With
No answers
No comfort
No goodbye
Nothing.
All I ask for is one more chance.
One more shot
One more attempt to love again.
If this doesn’t work,
Then please,
Never again
Give me a heart.

Rant
My opinions:
The skin is the body’s biggest organ;
The tongue: the biggest muscle;
The eyes: floor-to-ceiling windows to the soul;
The heart is the biggest opening to self-esteem.
My skin wraps around my body
As if hiding something.
My tongue is a giant shoelace around my life,
Tripping me at every step.
My eyes are always sad--
Reminding me of the basset at home.
My heart is incomplete and bleeding
Out of the little self-esteem in my mind.

Hear Me Roar
I am an independent woman
I go shopping on my own,
I pay my own bills--
Working three jobs at certain points,
Going to school fulltime,
And being away every weekend.
I am an independent woman
I have my own opinions
I speak my mind
And I don’t need someone else to complete me.
I complete myself.
I don’t need someone to wipe tears from from swollen cheeks.
I don’t need someone to cradle my face and
Tell me I’m beautiful at night.
I am an independent woman
I can comfort my own cracking heart
I will wipe away my own tears
And I will fill my house with objects
That give short bursts of happiness.
I don’t need children and family,
I will complete me
I am an independent woman.
I will not listen to people tell me
My life is sad and lonely.
I won’t do it.
I will decide what I want
And who I need.
I am an independent woman.
I am all I need.

Revelation
Yellow pollen on her nose
Tickles
And makes her sneeze.
A predictable response,
Yet one that for some reason
Must be announced.
Like the revelation that politicians lie,
That babies need love,
That hearts break, but mend over time,
That noses will break and eyes
Turn black and blue.
Like the revelation that corporate America is corrupt,
And all the litigation we can muster
Will never make it stop.
I want a revelation
That one person can make a difference
That one message of hope can comfort all.
A revelation that you do not have to be famous
To change the world
And make it your own.

Individuality
My mind took me for a walk the other day
Telling me of
The past
The present
And even the future.
Telling me all I had to do was break
Away from society
Highlight my differences
Minimize the similarities.
Take a chance to show the world
There is more to me than
This hair
This skin
And these teeth.
My mind wandered through
A labyrinth of options
Eliminating the ones it didn’t like
And criticizing the ones it did.

What It Means To Be Great
What is good
What is great
What is revolutionary:
Poetry is what tells a story,
Makes a difference,
Poetry screams to the world,
”Something is wrong!”
Poetry doesn’t tell the world,
”You should be this, do this, say this,
Change your ethics
According to me code,
My system,
My beliefs.”
Poetry listens to all claims
Not just claims of certainty
And of God.
It listens to other claims:
Of love,
Friendship,
And honor.
There is more that one way
To love
Befriend
And honor.
A poem screams:
”Don’t tell me your way
Is the only way!”
Don’t tell me your poem
Is the only way to write
And proclaim.
Saying that the only way to be great
Is to be new and revolutionary
Is like saying that the only clothes to buy
Are the American-Abercrombie-Gap-Buckle
Clothes that cost more than my cell phone bill--
A bill that I have to put on my credit card
Every month.
A credit card bill with an insurmountable
Minimum balance.
Making the payments requires that I
Skip to meals a day.
I live this life
Every day.
So don’t tell me
There’s only one way
To be great.

Untitled
An overturned glass exemplifies
The child’s discomfort, sadness, and agitation.
Feeling that the world never helps
Only hurts.
The glass’s contents won’t be mopped up for hours:
The parents left a day ago
And the babysitter never showed.
The phone is out of reach--
Just like Mom and Dad.
Too afraid to touch the broken glass,
The child just stares sullenly
Waiting for someone to come.

Bar on a Saturday Night
Mid rift
The musician lowers his guitar
And scans the audience
Whose breath went for a walk
Moments ago.
The musician raises one corner
Of his seductive lips
And prepares to continue,
With unplanned grace,
To take the audience to a place
Too beautiful to articulate.
Their minds leave the room
In search of their breaths,
And let their bodies be enveloped in sound.
A sound that laid their worries to rest
And blanketed them in surreal joy.

Livin’ in Lincoln

I’ve been in L-town for 6 days now and I feel really accomplished. I quickly and skillfully bought groceries, unpacked my last box yesterday, and walked about 25 blocks (past the capitol, to the apartment management building [from now on called RIS], and to The Panache Coffee House I am hanging out at right now). I still have to walk home, but it’ll be pretty easy. The one necessity I have not found yet is someplace to buy stamps. I need to figure that out soon because I have stuff that has to be mailed on like Monday. I was going to post some pictures of my new apartment on facebook, but I really needed to get going. I knew that if I stopped to take pictures, then I would have spent an hour doing that and could have missed the hours that RIS is open. I think on my walk home from The Coffee House, I will see if I can find the damn post office.

I haven’t done anything yet; i.e., hang out with people. Although I did run into Holly at the grocery store—that was kinda funny…it’s a small world afterall. I think that now that I have everything unpacked and only have curtains and art to hang up, I will actually want to hang out. If anyone would have called earlier, I would have been hesitant to go anywhere. I just knew that if I didn’t unpack everything now, then I would have to deal with it later—when I was trying to figure out a new school. That would have just made me angry….anyway, I think that I’ll call Darren and see if he wants to have a sushi date soon. I don’t know if Michael likes sushi, but I kinda assume that he does since well, it’s food. I think that that will be a good way to ease into the Lincoln life.

I am struggling with my facebook account though. I can’t seem to get it to work at all on my phone—won’t let me log on. Sooooo, I figured today at the coffee shop I would check my login and password and low and behold, I can’t log on that way either. So, I had to do that lame forgot password crap and I still don’t have the email from facebook resetting my password. Argh!

 

Okay, I know that I am no bastian of great fashion sense—please I have backpack from high school that has very few working zippers and says “Old  a  “ instead of “Old Navy"—but there is a man a couple of tables away wearing an orange and yellow plaid dress shirt, khaki shorts, and dark brown high-top workboots with long black dress socks. Just goes to show that even one decision can make or break an entire outfit. Actually from the back (and paired with the outfit) he kinda looks like Dan C-M. Hehehe.

AND I still don’t have my thesis from MSU. Ack. Jim texted me Monday (maybe Tuesday) that he got his copy. I should have gotten mine last week, but the damn woman in the grad office forgot that I was moving, so she had to get my new address and probably didn’t mail it until Monday. I really hope that I get it tomorrow. It’s not that I’m gonna sit down and read it—it’s just that I want to have as many loose ends tied up as possible when school starts.

 

Contemplate this: How prepared can you really be for the new and the unknown?

Life Lesson #4,000,034

I finally figured it out: the meaning of life.
It was a long and difficult experience,
Like frozen mud through tire treads.
With all of the decisions we make,
The choices with which we are faced,
The options presented,
We must all remember this one indisputable fact:
Life is a continual succession of catch-22s.
I know you imagine me saying this with
Raven hair, a smoky voice, and torn jeans;
However this is not to simply spout:
‘Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.’
Instead, I think it necessary to look at the mosaic of our lives
And see that with everything, there are not only pros,
But there are inevitably cons.
This conclusion has made my decision making process
Both more and less complicated, of course.
Pro: I am not surprised when the…mud hits the fan
Con: I am the slowest decision maker you will ever meet.
My actions are clearly strategized.
This was not always the case:
As a child I was imaginative, creative, and
Impulsive.
In elementary school—
The breeding ground for
A plethora psychological neuroses—
I was on the reduced meal plan.
My lukewarm cookie-cutter school lunch
Cost $.30 as compared to my classmates’ $1.50.
I was so jealous of my classmates who brought
A cold lunch from home.
It was so special and individual and
Seemed to be paired with so much love.
I started to periodically bring a lunch from home:
A turkey and cheese sandwich
And handful of potato chips
Splaying lazily in fliptop plastic bags.
I was so jealous of classmates with individually packaged
Doritos, cheetos, fritos, and ru-ru-ruffles.
I survived this fiasco and learned so much more about
Lunch time rituals in high school.
Cold lunch became the mark of the undesirable;
Hot lunch became neutral;
But if you wanted to be in, you had to go to the al a carte.
There were slices of pizza brought in from Pizza Hut,
Ice cream cones and sandwiches,
Sundaes, individual brownies and cookies—
Food that entices and impresses.
But, of course it was more expensive
And I so yearned to be a part of that crowd.
One morning, I finally asked my mother for the $2.
She froze and inhaled the most difficult breath I have ever seen:
A criminal fighting against the bars,
Full of frustration and lacking hope.
Exhaling as if she could push the whole world away,
My mother handed me the money.
I have never felt so selfish and guilty.
This decision pitted my struggle to fit in
Against the needles in my stomach when asking for money.
A catch-22.
Years later, I confessed to my mother that I hated asking her for money
And she responded simply:
‘Well, it was my money.’
Her honesty forced me to face
The tenuous hold she had on family finances.
She scraped together each penny
And had to choose between
Disappointing her daughter
And paying a late fee—
A catch-22.
Through her candid comment,
I finally realized the extent to which
Life is a continual succession of catch-22s.
A lesson that has
Been the fire behind my decision making
The voice in my head,
The warmth in my heart,
And the confidence in my step.
Life lesson #4,000,034.

Family Valu Center

"Hi! Welcome to Family Valu Center." Where things are so cheap, we don't even put the e on value.

"Hi, there! How are you?" "Hi!" Hi!" My greetings shower the people as they walk in the door of the hole-in-the-wall gas station where I work. Most of them don't even look at me, few glance my way, and even fewer respond in kind. "I'm fine. How are you?"

One of the main lessons I've learned about people from working at the gas station is that most of them don't give a shit about the person behind the counter. And a large percentage of them don't care what loops I have to jump through or rules that I have to break to get them what they want. Last night, three moderately tipsy people walked in and as one of the women was waiting to pay for her husband's gas, the other couple was getting ice from the fountain machine.The couple walked up to me and said, "We just have two cups of ice."

"Ok, that'll be fifty cents."

"What?! Your're gonna charge us for ice?"

Sigh. "Yeah, sorry, that's the policy."

The woman paying for the gas says that she will pay for the ice and they don't have to worry about it. I said ok, and the man slams fifty says on the counter and thanks me for charging them for ice. Seriously. I know. They walked out the door and I wanted to say no problem, why don't you yell at me for the gas prices, too. Yet, another thing that I don't control.

I am honestly tired of having to bite my lip and manipulate my life so that those I meet in a customer service experience can have a better day, while totally destroying mine. I am a person with feelings and experiences and an outlook on life--not an object who jumps at the flick of a switch. I try to look at my experiences as an opportunity to brighten someone's day. A chance for me to make someone realize that they are not alone in this life--a chance to say hi, you are not invisible. This uphill battle is difficult when I am constantly bombarded with behavior that makes me feel invisible.

Each day is a brand new day which allows me to shake off the old rejections and open my heart to the hope of toucing the heart of someone else. As I contemplate these changes from day to day, a man walks in and starts examining theice cream cooler.

"Hi, how are you today?"

"I'm doing ok. Which one of these is the best? What would you suggest?"

"Ummm...My favorite is the Big Bopper--with the chocolate chip cookies and the ice cream? It's the most expensive, but I think it's totally worth it."

"Oh, well I don't really care how expensive it is...I'm just trying to cheer up my pouting daughter."

My heart warms and I smile. "Ahhh, well I think that that will definitely do it."

As the man returns to his car and his unhappy child, I smile and think about how comforting it is when another tries to make you feel better--even when they don't have to. My junior year of high school, I finally told this boy that I liked him--a big deal, I know, right?-- and after his rejection, I was depressed for weeks. The first night that I was licking my wounds in my room, my mom told me that she was making broccoli to go with dinner and if I wanted  her to, she would put cheese on it. Or there was the time I couldn't find any clothes that I liked for the first day of school and my mom took my out for ice cream. Or how about the day that my grandma died and at dinner my dad continuously asked me if I wanted more food.

Hmph. I guess there is an explanation for why I am what the polite people like to call plus-sized. I personally like to call it me-sized. I remember growing up in a house where there was always food and whenever there was a problem, the solution was something comforting to eat.

When I was younger, I totally destroyed my metabolism by eating whenever I was dealing with a stressful situation. Now, I deal with my issues, by smoking a lot of cigarettes. Even though I have learned that food is not a solution, I am still me-sized because my metabolism is the pace of a Chevy Astro.

I look in the mirror and think, hey I'm kinda cute and not that overweight. And then I leave for the day, come back and look in the mirror again. Then think, god, I'm so plus-sized and I wish I wasn't.

As I go through my day, I want to give others a little nudge to feel better about who they are and their station in life. I just wish that someone would take the time to do that for me.

On Bleeker St

A day just like any other day--
Walking from street to street;
Following the footprints of yesterday's shadow,
A trench embedded in the sidewalk of repetition.
I am a true child of my generation,
Taught to stay in line, take orders, love democracy,
And never, ever question the norm--
Unless of course I finally believe that I can change the world
With a single phrase.

A city just like any other metropolis--
Born out of greed, want, and need,
Destined to collapse under its own sins.
I am a prisoner in a life I did not choose,
Wanting to abandon forced responsibilities
And spend the day dreaming about what could be.

A man just like any other white-collar-eat-my-shit man--
Brushing my wilted shoulder with his Brooks Brothers' shirt,
Hollering into the cell phone attached to so many hands,
Sweat running down his receding hairline--racing for the starched collar.
Entranced by the fervor of his movements,
I lean against the wall watching one of them squirm for once,
Enjoying the way that the proverbial shoe has landed on the other foot with a thud.
My smile freezes as his body tenses and falls slackly to the ground.

A sound unlike any other sound--
Slicing the air and brutalizing the ear drums,
The man wheezes and strains--an instrument out of tune.
As his closest observer, I crouch at the man's shuttering form,
I notice the unfortunate lack of motion on the left side of his body
And clasp his right hand, waiting for the end.

Our souls kiss the gentle touch of unity--
Blurring the differences I had focused on a blink ago,
Opening a chasm in space and time;
I am him and he is me.
Flung into diapers, cross-trainers, cleats, acne,
Marriage, betrayal, divorce, the boardroom, loss,
Triumph, fear, acceptance, and finality.

Desperation's tingling fingers open my own past--
Mornings spent smoking in bed where clocks don't exist,
Waterfalls consisting only of tears and missing dreams.
I open my eyes to a man who is simply human
And my harsh judgment reverberates.

An apology unlike any other--
It passes from my heart to his,
A phrase I hope mends both our wounds,
Changing the world which we thought we knew.
I am a whisper away from his thoughts,
Waiting for his response.
And after all of that, the loudest sigh I've ever heard seeps out.
Our souls that had spoke to each other for a short time,
Became two once more.

The Clock is winding down

In 2 1/2 weeks, I will be moving to Lincoln. In 1 1/2 weeks, I will be making a quick trip down to sign my lease and drop off a car load of stuff. I’m starting to get really nervous and scared. I don’t like change and I don’t like saying good-bye and I definitely don’t like moving. I think that I would be more okay with everything that’s going on right now, if it didn’t feel like I was just bumming around and hoping that I find something to do each day that will pass the time and not cost me any more. I turned in my cable box, the cords, and the remote last week. So, that means that I’m piggybacking someone else’s wireless and have no tv. Yeah, there’s stuff online, but I feel kinda guilty putting that much strain on my laptop ALL the time. What about watching DVDs on my tv you ask? Well…my DVD player crapped out and it won’t play ANYthing. It kinda blows and so I’ve been using my laptop to watch DVDs, but again I don’t know want to wear out my laptop. Ugh.

I talked to my mom last week (and I need to call her again to make sure our plans are solidified). My parents will come to MN on Friday, July 17. Hopefully, there will be people from my life here who will come and help us pack stuff into our vehicles and the trailer. My plan is to have everything packed and we only need to load stuff. My mom said that my dad thought when we were done with that we could drive a couple hours and then spend the night at a truck stop. THEN we could drive the rest of the way to Lincoln. Um, I hate that idea. A LOT. Where are we supposed to sleep? Are we going to pay for a motel? Are we going to try to sleep in the vehicles? Okay, where? My crap is going to be everywhere and we will probably have to sleep sitting up. No way. Hopefully, I can convince my parents that we can just leave out a mattress and an air mattress and some lamps and sleep in my apartment Friday night. Then we can drive to Lincoln. I know that it will be a long trip for them, but I think that it’s safer than sleeper at a truck stop with ALL of my belongings.

So, that makes me really nervous, but I think that my parents will go with whatever I think is best. The thing that makes me the most nervous is whether or not I will have enough money squirreled away in my checking account to survive until my first paycheck. I need to check and see if I will get my first paycheck at the beginning or end of August. Probably the end. And it probably will come AFTER I need to pay for a crap ton of stuff for school. SIGH. I just try really hard to be smart with my money and yet, it always seems that every 6 months or so, I am in a bind and don’t think that I have any money. I hope that when I am done with school and have a fulltime job I don’t have to worry about this crap as much.

And of course, my social life. I have friends here in MN who I genuinely care about and I think that they care about me, but I am getting worried that when it comes time to move it will just be my parents and I. When I was in undergrad, I remember asking people to help me move and I got a couple of confirmations. AND THEN when the time came, NO ONE showed up. I could totally see that happening here. My Dad has made it pretty clear that this is probably the last time that they will help me move and that they don’t want to do it by themselves. Well, I don’t want that to happen, either! But, the best that I can hope for is that people will actually help me. I’ve also contacted a bunch of people in Lincoln in the hopes that they can help me out too. BUT, some of them haven’t even met me, so my expectations aren’t that high. I just hope that there are enough people there that it won’t be a giant pain in the ass.

Contemplate this: How much faith can you have in situations that don’t usually warrant it?

Forgot about this for almost two years

Last time I wrote on this blog, I was getting ready to leave Hastings forever. Now I have finished my master’s and I will be moving to Lincoln in about a month to start work on my PhD. The last two years have been pretty eventful. My brother James got married and he and Jodi are expecting a baby in September. It’s a boy and I can already see her baby belly. It’s adorable. My brother Josh is still fighting Jill for custody of Beau, but as a whole things seem to be going okay in that department.

I found an awesome apartment in Lincoln, it’s a split level with a washer/dryer and dishwasher. I love it and I’m way excited to be there. The only ‘blemish’ is that the rent is pretty expensive and I’m nervous about being able to afford it. I’m trying to convince myself that I will be able to afford it because I will be walking more than driving, my stipend will be more, and I won’t have to pay for parking. I just have to make it to September when I will be getting paychecks again and I will get a refund check from my student loan money. SIGH. I just have to make it two months. I’ll try to post more soon. Perhaps some creative stuff. :)

Contemplate this: Has there ever been a life-transition that hasn’t been rocky?

less than 10 days

I cannot believe that I will be leaving Hastings permanently in about a week. It is very surreal. It feels like just yesterday I was hanging out at the boys' house, getting drunk, and getting myself in trouble. This upheaval is totally fucking with my emotions. I keep thinking about everything that I have done and the things that I wish I had done, and whether or not I should be proud and satisfied with myself. Also, I keep thinking about the people I am friends with and whether or not our friendship is as valuable to them as it is to me or if it is even valuable to me. I don't know. . .it's all very confusing. Like even though I am around people all the time, I am sooooo lonely right now and I don't even know how to explain it. I have three people that I can call my closest real friends, and none of them are even in Hastings! So, the people that I see on a regular basis are those that I am gong to start to think of as kleenex friends. Once I am done here, I am sure that they are going not even be bothered by the fact that I am gone. The reason that this starts to niggle away at me is that I know that once I am in Minnesota, I am going to be sooooo lonely that I am going to want to call some of theses Kleenex friends and they would not have had the urge to calll me at all. ggrr. . .

And let's not forget the latest worry in my life: th eparty. On July 28th there will be a party at my parents' house for my brothers and I. It started because my Dad was upset that we didn't do anything when I graduated from Hastings. So, I thought, "Hey. let's do something for all of us kids, that way my brother's don't feel like I am getting all of the attention." James is engaged. Josh just moved into a new house, and I just graduated from college. so we'll have one party for all of us. When I talked to my Mom the other night though, it sounded like my brothers had not invited anyone to the party, while I had. We sent out paper invitations to family and family friends and then we kids were responsible for inviting friends our own age. The whole purpose of this party will be shot to hell if my brothers don't invite any of their friends BECAUSE then it will be my friends and then family and family friends, that would make it seem like a gradution party for me, not a party for all of us. I am so frustrated and worried that this is going to blow up in my face. Fuckin' shit.

And of course the best part of my summer happened when I realized that there was no way that I could afford to move to Mankato and live for two months without taking out a personal loan. I worked my ass off this summer at McD's and what did get me? Nowhere. I still don't have enough money saved up (in fact, it feels as if I have no money saved up) and I haven't paid off any of the debt I have acucmulated in the last four years. It's like one of my Kleenex friends said, "I am taking one step forward just to take three steps back."

The bright beacon at the end of this shit is that Jordan comes back from Texas tonight and I finally get to see her after over three weeks. And Molly has told me that she will for sure come to 'the party,' so I will finally get to see her after two months! That's about it, everything else pretty much sucks. When I get in moods like this, I always think of that song that Denis Leary sings, "Everything is horrible whoo-ho. Really, really terrible, whoo-ho, eeeh-ha. Oh, I'm really depressed, I'm really downtrodden, I'm downtrodden, yeah-ah." It sounds kinda depressing, but it actually is sung in such a way that it actually cheers me up a little bit. In the words of Rocco, "I'm fuckin' fine. I'll see you on the flip side."

Contemplate this: If it's true that life is an accumulation of experiences, what is life you feel that you have experienced nothing?

Feels like a lot to do, but not really. . .I don't know

I have been an alumni of Hastings College for 12 days now and I don't really feel that different from 30 days ago. Maybe it just takes some time. I have been talking to the ADOF at Mankato through email for the past week or so, and it turns out the one of the Forensics GTA's from California backed out a week ago and now they are scrambling trying to find someone to replace him. James whoever the fuck you are, that was so inconsiderate, now what are they going to do?
A part of me is really excited to be going to Grad School next year, but I'm also really scared. I think that it is a much needed change because I need to get out of Hastings, but Mankato is a little scary because I get nervous about making new friends and meeting new people. Also, I have been looking online for apartments and (while I cognitively knew it would be more expensive) the cheapest one I could find is $450. ugh. I am going to go look at apts at the end of June, but God, how am I going to afford this? Whatever. . .

Contemplate this: why does the library have to close so damn early in the summer?