Conjugal Conversation

I like the white candles,

their lambent flickering,

on the desk

desk? [absently]

you know, they are like

momentos of mass, like

liturgy in hot smoke

smoke? [absently] 

a deep imprecation!

a real spiteful secret

is what I'll now say!

hmmm? [absently]

oh nevermind, baby

but I do like the candles

the hot, white desk-candles

just like I like you

New Poem

the fledgling bird
flies from its nest--
mettlesome, not pigeon-livered,
home-leavers, professed

but birds are of feather
and humans, of skin
we shan't keep on flying
away from our kin

Conundrum

I want to be better, but don't know how... :/

I recall reading this book in the dentist's office one day, a fable about 2 princesses. One was ugly but kind, clever, and an excellent and witty conversationalist, the other was the most beautiful woman people had ever seen, but was empty-headed and vain. One day, the beautiful princess was traveling somewhere (something to do with her many suitors, no doubt... though the specifics have long been erased by the waves of new memories) when she came across this very ugly man. He was some sort of enchanter, and somehow set up a deal where he would marry her in a year's time, and would help her have more personality. I don't know. Anyway, she became more interesting to talk to, and more kind, while her sister became embittered--and more ugly because of it. The man, when he returned in a year, was actually very handsome, and they lived, obviously, happily ever after.

I've been thinking about this story recently, and wishing I could come across an enchanter who would make me better at certain things... and it's tough to finally face the realization that that will never happen, and I will have to work very hard for every improvement I want to make. It's discouraging and empowering.

From Finals, With Love (yes, the James Bond movie they should have made, but never did!)

An intellectual heavyweight just informed me that, "You come across as so confident and polished. I always look forward to reading your writing because it is so precise." Essentially. And I am bursting at the seams--to the extent that I am tooting my own horn. Say hello to a confident, polished, precise woman.

However, this woman is also bursting at the seams for another reason entirely. Finals clamor, bla bla bla, always tugging in the background--and it's becoming increasingly difficult to ignore them. Wail, moan, I don't want to. But I have two (ONLY TWO, I KNOW) I'll take Monday or Tuesday.

In the foreground, however, clamors something not so material but immediately more appealing. A friend tells me that this book--while appropriately incognito in the form of a mystery--tackles the question of whether a woman can have both a family and a satisfying intellectual or professional life. And not just have both--but do justice to both. Must. Be. Read. It was written in the thirties or so by Dorothy Sayers, a member of not just Oxbridge society, but the Tolkien-Lewis Oxbridge society.

As compelling as the book is, finals must be first priority. (...?)

A parting word on
Oh nevermind,
no parting word but goodbye!
Finals send their love.

?

all of my life, I've imagined bad things in an effort to keep them from happening. for example, if I imagine that my mother will get in a car accident on her way to pick me up, then that is obvious insurance against that actually happening. once I think something, it won't happen. Transcribing real possibilities into the imaginative realm is my greatest emotional defense against uncertainty and fear. but I have this heavy feeling that one day, I will imagine something and it will happen, and I won't be able to comprehend the reality of it. what to do then? how to live in the ugly clash of worst fears and grittiest tangiblity?

Awesome Weekend

Despite earning the lowest test score of my living days, this weekend was wonderful! 

I am SO endowed.

Wow. What an experience. I really wish I had a new journal after filling up my old one last week, as I'd like to write about the whole thing (just not on the WWW). My response. Hmm. 

Wow.

Hmm.

I suppose I may say, for posterity's sake, that it was a precious, peaceful thing. And that I can't wait to go back! I'm looking forward to being able to do what I did today again (for the rest of my life!). 

K. Must go write papers.

Who Knew Britney Spears Could Be Food for Thought?

Wow. Today has been one helluva. Many thoughts, disconnected, as per their usual shipment:

A. Wisdom Teeth out+Drugs+Period=bitchiest Angela ever known to man

B. Above equation may also equal have some (or much?) bearing on the following sensations that have been itching under my skin all day:

i. have I been trying to grow up too fast? have I succeeded in "growing up"? if no, will I ever? and do I want to? and if yes, do I regret that? I was walking through the freshman dorms on my way home from the library, just before midnight, bushes and buildings awash in the depressingly clinical light of streetlamps, and passed a boy and a girl walking, talking, in the way that they do at that age. my age. and the full emotional impact of Britney Spears' "I'm Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman" (quite weighty for teen pop, in my opinion) hit me at that moment. I preyed on their conversation for a moment, insatiable in my need to know what it was exactly that I was (am?) missing. I caught snippets, and realized, equally predatorily,  that I was completely uninterested. I've evolved, or at least, am evolving. The thing is, I don't quite know which stage I am at. In general, I feel either bored and stymied or inexperienced and grasping--never quite in my zone of proximal development, to steal a term of Vygotsky's. I can hardly relate to people who are my own age, yet in my classes, I find it difficult to relate to the married-with-children biblical scholars. In my own apartment, I can barely communicate with my roommates, let alone interact on any sort of heart-to-heart level (and would I even want to, were it communicatively possible? good question). And my old friends, whom I call "old" simply because they've been around the longest and are the best, I call old because they're also moving on to different stages in this great play of life, and we're just sort of splitting up, like a fissioning cell--it's actually natural and productive, but it still seems kind of painful. This all adds up to a strange limbo-ness. I feel in-between. It's a bit sad. I have been thinking a lot lately about why I find transience so comforting. And it's not so much that I've been theorizing why--I think that it can be unequivocally traced to the abrupt and comprehensive moves that my family made growing up. In making friendships, I was confronted with the knowledge that I could either make friends and simply end up leaving them in who knew how many months, or that I could forego the pain of making any only to lose them--and thereby forego the pleasure of actually having friendship as well. I'm a bit ashamed and puzzled to say it, but I generally chose the latter. I think that ultimately, I was just afraid. And I took the easy way out, which is not admirable at all. However, I always had friends--I need friends, I love them--and despite whatever unconscious psychological barriers I built, I have always been just enough or done just enough to have and keep them--though hardly much at all, I'm afraid. Anyhow, at the moment, I feel that I need to adapt to this new stage that I am at, and make a conscious decision to actually try to befriend people. I am so happy that my favorite friend EVER is going to marry me, but I think for his sake I should try to make some compadres so that I don't go crazy, nor drive him crazy for always wanting to be with him. Also, I need to hone my humor skills. I used to be very funny. What HAPPPENED? I have become a buffoon. I would rather be... unbuffoonish. So, in round-about conclusion, I am going to try to develop some people skills! They were sharpened at one point, but have since become rusty. New puzzles require new solutions, so I suppose I'll be experimenting (in what I hope doesn't transform into a test subjects way...). K. Over and out, buckos.

If you started at the beginning, and chowed through all of that text to reach this sentence, I, as sovereign of this honorable blog, commend you HIGHLY. Bravo!!! :)

This is Just to Document

That, NO, contrary to what you may consider "predictable behavior," I am not, as of now, freaking out. I am writing on my blog in a perfectly usual fashion.

Positively unsublime,

nauseatingly sane,

overchewed phrasology:

all coalesce to form this perfectly normal post.

Written after a perfectly normal evening. 

So there.

Whooooo wlooolooo!