I forgot how much fun it is to analyze poems. I'm serious. Tonight I decided to tackle "A Dialogue Between the Soul and Body," a poem I specifically remember being afraid of senior year when I was assigned to read it. It's keeping me interested, and my brain is hurting from the challenge. I remember why i'm an English major. For some reason, I like to do this stuff. And though I may detest the boring lectures and empty readings teachers like to barate us with, and question my major, I really do like it.

"So that either is not what you mean or plain wrong."

After cleaning my room (organizing all books by height and type), napping for 3 or 5 minutes at a time, eating dinner (and punishing myself with a chickwich), playing a really successful game of Expert Minesweeper for 588 seconds before failing with only 10 mines left to find, skipping frisbee practice for expos's sake, I have no thesis. I have no observations. I have nothing original to write about the Fall River Axe Murders. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip.

Olfactory Hues

After almost three months in Cambridge, I have decided that college is unequivocally, unfortunately, and inexplicably smelly.

Whether it is the pungent, not-quite-urine-not-quite-vomit- not-quite-menstrual smell emanating from a mysterious (and unlocatable) corner of the bathroom or the thick dead animal smell of the practice room or the striking body odor of afrazzled, hungover grad student T.F. as he sweeps by, arms up, trying to demonstrate a concept in French, everywhere there are unpleasant smells that I either cannot locate the root of or that I cannot do anything about.

And these smells, they are only unpleasant to the degree of annoyance, because it seems that everyone has something more important to do than eradicate them.

This reminds me of the time at home that I unknowingly had a cup of soymilk sitting on my desk that periodically belched foul, fermented gas.

These are the things I articulate when I have an essay to write.

Home.

At my home for another 14 days. Two weeks to finish up my classes, take finals, write papers, say goodbye to my job, my friends, Santa Barbara. I feel like summer is approaching... but Europe is. This is so weird.

I'm sorry for not posting very often, but I really haven't had too much to say. Like there's a lot on my mind, like I've been spending a lot of time just lying around thinking because for some reason I dont' want to do anything else, but nothing that really deserves to be written about really. Plus, there's always a lot on my mind, my neck is sore my head so damn heavy... HAHAHAHAHA!
ANYways, I'm trying to figure out what I want to do over the next summer. I really want to travel somewhere, but not in a study abroad or school/company/intership travel program manner because that's just way too expensive and I still need to time to fill out med school apps and take the MCATs again if I need to. I need something more flexible. Anyone wanna go somewhere with me? I'm not all too picky as to where, just anywhere but here. Speaking of the Ataris, they have samples of new songs posted on their myspace page... and I've decided that I agree that it is weird that bands have myspace pages.

Ever reach that stage of tiredness where you want to go to sleep, but you're so lazy that you don't want to get ready for bed?

Told ya I didn't have too much to say.

I was going to write a conclusion to my last thought, but I was distracted by the pomegranate. I wanted to buy one the other day, but I decided I couldn't possibly eat it A) by myself, and B) without my ex-roommie who's studying in France for the year. Last year we ate one while writing papers on our respective computers, the juicy seeds stored in a coffee pot that sat between us.

Yesterday

I ate a pomegranate.

I was in full packing mode this afternoon, chair blocking the doorway, piles filling the small aisle between my desk and bed, on the phone, music booming. At that opportune moment, my roommate returned home, engaged in loud conversation with her boyfriend, and expected to enter our room with her laundry basket. I closed my eyes and turned away, reluctant to break the seal to my solitude, disrupt the method to my madness.

There's a conclusion to that thought, I swear.

So... this is kind of late but, HAPPY 21st B-DAY AVALON AND STEVE!!!!!!!!! I hope this week(end) has been awesome for you guys so far. Well I dont hope... I know, because I just spent it with you guys.

Bullocks!

Jane Monheit at the Berklee Performance Center on December 9... $26!

Absolutely ridiculous.

Running in Boston

Made me remember this.

And so it begins... (v. 5.0)

It seems that every time I celebrate a return to running, I end up wrapped in my towel, face still a deep sanguine (I was looking for a word that evoked the image of dark pink fleshy meat) color, hair dripping from a shower that couldn't get cold enough--blogging. What an awful sentence that was. I'm sure some literary titan or Expos preceptor could analyze the hell out of a stupid, simply poorly constructed sentence like that. Something about the anticipation of the action being intensified by the passive nature of the description and the parenthetical comment revealing the narrator's ... oh to flaming hell with literary analysis. For serious. For love of all things serious.

So today I ran in Cambridge around the Charles. I felt strong. The cold air held me like sashimi in a bed of ice, and it wasn't until I stopped moving that I felt my face flush that familiar color which would make everyone ask if I was okay. The entire run was basically flat. I was wearing long sleeves. I'll keep you updated.

Foliage

I took myself on a day trip to LA today.

6 hours of on and off driving, some traffic, some unprotected left-hand turns.
3 hours of waiting, 5 mins of talking to the (hot) consulate man.
1 hour of shopping at Amoeba, yielding no purchases.

On the bright side, I will have a visa in 45 days.

Oh please, EVERYONE's heard of THEM...

Everytime I keep thinking that I'm not as into music as a used to be due to my growing resentment towards the attitudes people take on music (fine, no one's heard of your new favorite post-modern ethereal 20-piece musical discovery... it doesn't make it good, it just makes you a douche), I find myself listening to 10 new cds all in one sitting. I have to listen to music when I wake up in the morning, when I study, when I go to sleep. As music scenes merge, divide, and fight, I just have to keep on listening...

What did you huck this weekend?

I went to Rhode Island this weekend for Brown's Huck a Hunk o' Burnin' Pumpkin Halloween Ultimate Frisbee Tournament. A mouthful, no?

I'm starting to feel that familiar concern again, that familiar obsession-- I once posted, way back in the heyday of our TPHS shared blogs, about a cross country race that involved buckets of rain, shoes of mud, and tons of steaming, pure adrenalin. I wrote about loving sport for that feeling of 125% exertion, vomit at the end of the race, running so that there are no regrets. I felt that today, when we lost a game to Columbia, whom we beat decisively just two weeks ago at Yale, whom we should have beaten today, and who fumbled stumbled bumbled their way to serving us our asses and egos today. I never was good at cross country, and I'm a long ways from being an ultimate player, but there was that frustration today, the depression that came from regret of dropping a good put, or not running down a huck, or not getting on defense fast enough and watching the other team score. It was depressing as hell to lose, but on second thought, knowing that I felt it at all was refreshing. Sport is instant pleasure: play hard, feel good. Hot damn diggity, dear Halfwhat readers, in this post I profess my love for ultimate frisbee and the swift, skilled people who play it. How terribly silly.

VIVA LE SPORT!

Juli says the best cure for hangovers are waffles, Sgt. Pepper's, closed blinds, and sleep.

I am inclined to agree.

A Simple Request

I would like somebody with a sweet digital SLR camera to take a sweet picture of me doing something sweet, like chasing a disc (and clearly getting to it), laying out or "saying NO!" or laying out.

That is all.

Just so you guys know...

I am working WAY hard to get all my work done before you I see you guys (Juli and Linds) on Thursday. All for you two! Be grateful.

Oh, I'm so excited!