uniform

dear my new saturday uniform,

i thank J.Crew and, most of all, God, for creating you. or did you evolve from a lesser form of sweatshirt?

who cares, i love you and love being inside you.

xoxo

nine eleven

since everyone else is talking about it...

eight years ago i was living in a bubble. actually called "the bubble" by its students, Grove City College sits idyllically inside a beautiful brick wall that runs along its physical periphery, and inside an invisible, yet very secure, wall that keeps the outside world a comfortable distance from God's chosen undergrads.

my roommate and i didn't have a television, nor did any of our friends. those few students who had television, normally jocks, weren't even given the option of having MTV. as i understood it, the college had a formal agreement with the cable company regarding what should be offered to students.

at any rate, it is with this preface that i admit to you that when the twin towers (or is it "the two towers?" i always get 9/11 confused with Lord of the Rings) fell, i was too busy to notice. i was studying for a very difficult and very intimidating Spanish Lit. exam in the student union (remember the Geedunk?) when people began crowding around a television.

it was a strange crowd, i remember. usually when two or more GCC students are gathered together, it's impossible to block out the screams of "Yahtzee!" or, alternatively, the songs of praise they spontaneously burst into (yes, i'm serious). but this crowd wasn't screaming or singing anything. they just stared at a television set.

i guess i understood that something bad was happening, but i'd been studying for that exam non-stop for 3 days. i woke up at 5 AM to do last-minute cramming. i was sick to my stomach with fear that i might forget one of the 10 pages of Spanish quotations and literary criticism jargon i had learned by rote memorization (how do you explain a 'controlling metaphor' in Spanish?). at the time, i absolutely had no concern for what newsworthy event was unfolding live on Fox News. did Billy Graham die? or Pat Robertson, maybe? either national tragedy would've explained the looks of shock and sadness on my fellow grovers' faces.

whatever was going on, it didn't affect me. until i got to class. as my fellow hispanoparlantes and i sat down to take another of Senorita Forrester's dreaded exams, all shaking with anxiety and praying to Jesus to help us all get A's, i noticed that quite a few desks were empty. where was everyone?

and so it was la senorita who broke the news to me and the few other students who made it all the way to our 10:30 class oblivious to what had happened in Manhattan. she assumed that most people already knew; she understood that some of us might not be emotionally able to sit for the exam; she would hold a make-up exam for those students who were too distraught by, or at least fixated on, the morning news to do last-minute studying. before i knew it, i was one of those people. i found myself packing up my Jansport and leaving the class, while about half the students who had shown up that morning stayed behind and took the exam.

of course, i hadn't spent the morning distraught or staring at a television. i was prepared for that exam. but who could pass up the opportunity to study a little more? i would go on to graduate with a 4.0 in my major, which might not have been possible had i sat for that exam. does that make me a bad person?

the next few days on campus were a mess of impromptu chapel services, candlelight prayer vigils, and - thank the Lord - canceled classes. i felt safe inside the bubble. childish and ignorant, i didn't get, at the time, what 9/11 meant.

it was only months later, when my first love decided to move to New York for grad school, that the tragedy hit home. once i had loved ones in the city, and now that many people i love live there, the thought of such a thing happening again is terrifying. but 8 years ago, ignorance really was bliss.

what's YOUR story?

a reminder from dolly

Leave something good in every day.

plenty more Smoky Mountain wisdom on Dolly's Twitter.

prohibido: no buscar tu felicidad

gracias a manuelito por este.


a nice reminder to "follow your bliss." eh, CPGB?

amen

It's no crime to change your mind, and a believer might of course doubt his belief. There's a lot to be said, though, for just getting on with life, and in particular for resolving your doubts.

Having come to doubt you're on the right path, weigh the evidence as best you can. Then either stay on the path or (as in my case) get off it onto some other. What seems unconvincing to me is the claims by some believers to have wrestled with doubt for years or decades.

To people making those claims, the only thing I can think of to say is: "Isn't it time you, like, made up your cotton-pickin' mind?"

more here.

multitasking

daydreaming about dreams

You know that place between asleep and awake? That place where you still remember dreaming? ...That's where I'll be waiting.

this romantical quote from one of my favorite childhood movies, HOOK, just popped into my head as i was telling a friend about the crazy night of dreams i had.

maybe i still haven't snapped back to reality after the long holiday weekend's craziness and laziness; or maybe the Tylenol PM just hasn't worn off yet... i don't know. but i'm definitely still in a fog.

start with a dreary tuesday morning, throw in a wandering mind, and you'll find me daydreaming about being back in my comfy bed with fresh white sheets after the weekend's laundry ritual. what i wouldn't give to be back there...

at the same time i continue thinking about the vivid dreams i had last night. were they, too, the product of my OTC sleeping pills? did my 10+ hours of sleep leave my mind so bored, it started making up stories?

i won't go into the craziness that went on in my head last night, but i will say that now i have a strong urge to decorate an old attic and to sleep in it, as well as to drive back home to amishville with some random law school classmates who i haven't even seen for months.

dreams are so weird. often mine are a sort of compilation, or greatest hits, of my day beforehand. but every now and then, like last night's dreams, they come out of nowhere. places i haven't been in years, people who aren't even in my daily life, sometimes there are giant snakes involved. don't even get me started on my recurring dreams.

i know one thing: it's unusual to remember dreams this well several hours after waking.

cute.

and then you wait

What do you do when someone stops loving you?

--Well, you cry a little, and then you wait for the sun to come out. It always does.

TSOM

things change, just like the weather

or at least i wish they would.

by "things," i mean actual things. objects. nouns. you see, i have a little problem. and i'm pretty sure it's not an uncommon one.*

i don't shop very often. i can walk in and out of clothing stores without feeling compelled to buy anything. i recognize when i have far more jeans and shoes than i need. but when i walk though a home furnishings store... i lose my mind.

drop me off in front of a Crate & Barrel, a Pier 1, or even the housewares sections of Macy's and Target -- and i stop thinking logically. suddenly i want a new duvet - and now i'll need new throw pillows - let's redecorate the bathroom - i hate my nightstand - i want more kitchen accessories. my problem is that i want to constantly redecorate my home. again and again.

in this one instance, i guess it's fortunate that i am not wealthy enough to indulge my craving for ambient change. had i money enough to do so, i would be extremely wasteful and capricious.

obviously, one potential outlet for this creative/discontent energy could be a profession in interior design and decorating. but i think i'd need, like, a special degree or something to do that. who's going to hire a lawyer who can barely match a tie to his shirt to decorate a room?!

at any rate... what was i talking about? oh. right. why this is relevant.

so tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn, Shaunice and i are embarking on a shopping marathon. first to KOP to hit up Crate & Barrel, then Restoration Hardware, then a million outlet stores at the Philadelphia Premium Outlets. i suspect that i'll make it out of Neiman Marcus and Ralph Lauren without a scratch (unlike my roommie), but i'm a little worried about the housewares stores. by this time sunday, i may have redecorated my entire apartment for no reason.

no, i don't have the money, but c'mon! they're outlets. how can i possibly pass up "a deal" if i find one?



*i'll leave it for another day to explore our societal urge to constantly spend, redecorate, and change our lives superficially. i don't have the brain power for such a task today, because i am contemplating new linens and high thread counts.

never gave up hope

Maybe a happy ending doesn’t include a guy …maybe it’s you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is just… moving on.

Or maybe the happy ending is this: knowing, after all the unreturned phone calls, broken hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment, you never gave up hope.

i guess i liked another little part of this stupid movie.

just sayin'

i love you, Kashi, but your Triscuit knock-offs taste like reduced-calorie cardboard.

i'm sorry. you had your chance.

i hate your hair

no i don't.

to feel safe always

So seeing as how I won't be around to thoroughly annoy you, I thought I would give you a little list of the things that I wish for you.

Well, there's the obvious. An education. Family. Friends. And a life that is full of the unexpected. Be sure to make mistakes. Make a lot of them, because there's no better way to learn and to grow, all right?

And, um, I want you to spend a lot of time at the ocean, because the ocean forces you to dream, and I insist that you, my girl, be a dreamer.

God... I've never really believed in God. In fact, I've spent a lot of time and energy trying to disprove that god exists. But I hope that you are able to believe in god, because the thing that I've come to realize, sweetheart... is that it just doesn't matter if god exists or not. The important thing is for you to believe in something, because I promise you that that belief will keep you warm at night, and I want you to feel safe always.

And then there's love. I want you to love to the tips of your fingers, and when you find that love, wherever you find it, whoever you choose, don't run away from it. But you don't have to chase after it, either. You just be patient, and it'll come to you, I promise, and when you least expect it... And remember, to love is to live.

and it's contagious

my new favorite morning song.