go grizzlies.

jim took us to a lovely game of hockey at the e-center on saturday. {thank you}. an evening filled with dancing, shouting, kiss cam, chuck-a-puck, disgustingly appropriate nachos+popcorn+burritos+pizza, a big bear, and an all-too-close loss.

the sock game

how to play:
stuff a long sock with other socks. sit on the ground with knees bent up to chest, feet in the center in a tight circle. with many people, so that there is no space between any two people. the "it" squats in the middle and tries to find the sock, which is being passed underneath all of the bent legs. while "it" is searching for the sock, anyone in the circle who has the sock, hits the "it" with the sock. this continues until the "it" reaches uderneath the legs and captures the sock.

another

another football game.
opportunity cost: guarneri quartet at the de jong. bummer.

classic.

disco night at classic skating.

the old skates + my old fear required me to stay on the outer rinks. my friends pushed and cajoled as we laughed at my pure caution. i was in bliss going at my own pace, and simply content by myself. although as time went on, i got a little lonely. some chose blades and some chose skates. few were going as slow as i was, and many were going speedily backwards or dancing or tricking. i fell several times. but always laughed and kept on skating. i got better as the night went on; i lost some fear.

the new do

here's the new do. nothing special. only short. and you can't quite see the violet. must be in person :)

taking the plunge.

i doubt whether or not i'm using 'taking the plunge' correctly here, but for some reason, it is how i feel. in a good way. i made an appointment with the communications department academic advisor. think of me tomorrow at 2:20 pm. perhaps i will remember it as the time i figured out what i am to do with a life overflowing with so much, yet so little {carreer-oriented} direction. perhaps there is a day and a time and a moment when, for you, it clicked.

as i examined my academic 'map' for {communciations:print journalism} my heart beats faster. i react to this excitement with relief. oh what a shattering disillusionment if i had felt my stomach sink when i picked up this pink packet. but it didn't. my soul nearly beamed out of my teeth. it says, "the study of journalism entails the {mastery of people} to present news and features in a way that {reflects} events accurately and fully." regardless of whether my soul really was exiting through my teeth, it may not be my ultimate path. but on the other hand, it just might be.

each day is different. the more i jot things down on a stickie in the dashboard, or an empty space in my planner, the more i think and think. today i couldn't hold a smile down as each thing triggered immense reflection. sometimes i feel it is a curse. {for example, it is 3:53 am. and i have to write a paper on descartes and locke that i have procrastinated up til now because i didn't care but now i do because now i have to do well in order to do what i want. don't worry about the 3:53 am part. i took a nap from 9pm to about 2am.} i apologize for the incessant rambling, but i must wonder: will i be equally eager to stimulate tomorrow as i am today? how shall i manage my over-abundance of thoughts? if i ration them proportionally, will i be open to such so-called inspiration? but if i spend it all today, will i be impoverished? hard to say.

oh i do love this blogland.

1976

year of a dear sister's birth.
200 years after the birth of a nation.
number of times i've thought "i love it here."
number of times i've thought "i want to go home"
large plaque of unknown significance on the side of the library.

behind them.

i found myself in a solitary corner near some doors to enter the concert hall. one after one, group after group, people would attempt to open these doors. but in vain, for they were locked. only one giant man in a suit-coat had a key, and he did not choose to share his access. each time someone approached, i debated: should i say something? i held my tongue because i just knew that no matter what i said, they would try the doors anyway. but then they appeared irritated when they found the doors locked and i had not warned them.

whatever was behind those doors i'm sure was wonderful. some place where each person had been told to go, but could not enter. i know they all found a way in because i later saw them coming out. but still, the meeting or music or wonderful something going on behind these glass doors was, for a moment, a shred of impossibility.

a day in the hfac

"you have to learn to see" it says.




spent most my day in the harris fine arts center today. {must admit i may have a love/hate relationship with it. it symbolizes my choice of omission.} it is unlike most campus buildings in that it draws a much larger crowd than just students. i often feel inferior to those occupying students who i assume are all artsy liberals; this is their home. there are always multiple and wonderful exhibits in the center. i stumbled upon this essentially primitive one. wish you all could see it. i'm afraid the photos don't do it justice.

choosing up sides

saw this on {unruly.things}. it's time to choose your allegiance, lest you be treachorous.

whose team are you on?

for now

if you look close enough you can see the reflection of a girl in purple ruffles, taking the picture.

sampler room

welcome to the sampler room. this was my first library discovery. my first time even entering the hbl library. i walked up to the information desk and said "is there somewhere where i can just go and read?"..."around the corner and through some glass doors there are some comfy chairs."

it is the room where they keep literature for sheer entertainment. only a tiny little room to sample there are always library officials going in a door in the back of the sampler room. i wonder what is behind the door that requires 5 loud beeps at its entrance.

in the beginning i went in there on a daily basis, but now it is more like weekly since i have discovered other just-as-marvelous places in this building. i often sleep. sometimes blog. seldom study.

meg

"your birthday as my own to me is dear;
for mine did only lend me to the world;
yours gave to me a friend"

meg. you are one of the most wonderful things that every happened to me. thank goodness you're alive and 19.

self discovery: 03

{chizramp}

a common question: what kind of music do you like?

every time that question arrives at my feet, i panic. my primary identity crisis unfolds. everyone asks. all the time. but i have no idea. ever since i got here, i can't pin the tail on it. music has been my sole purpose for so many years; that question poses a turning point of selfhood. i fear my answer not only because i do not know it, but also because {they} will either fall in love with me or be eternally repulsed. as they attempt to thumb through my ipod i shrink in insecurity. will they find {in me} what they are looking for? inevitably, they will not.

postscript: i have been asked this question like 20 times since this post. it drives me nuts. can't people just accept me for who i am and not for what kind of music i like? the funny thing is, when people take a guess, they guess 80's tunes. the funnier thing is, i shuffle through my itunes library and realize it is true.

let

recieved a bundle of joy in the mail today. how grateful i am for beatiful people.
people who: lift + inspire + treat me as though i am the most important person they know + {exploit} + live each day of their lives.

let me cherish each moment, instead of analyzing every situation. i have found there is a fine line.

let me be quicker to leave behind and slower to criticize.

let me adore with all that is in me, everything beautiful and small.
but never let me pass by what is terrible and large.
for as much as the small is my joy, the large is my responsibility.
the large is every other who does not know the joy. who does not know the small.

all ahead

if i had a real room and real bed and a husband and $270 i would choose this headboard from urban.

photo shoot

witnessed this photo shoot yesterday. would love to see the finished product, though this archive of it tells a story of its own.

howdy

my cute hall advisor ann and her darling son blaine came over yesterday to say howdy. they were the most darling little cowboy family.

autumn

some fall photos for my november day. goodbye october.




besides the autumn poets sing,
a few prosaic days
a little this side of the snow
and that side of the haze.

- emily dickinson

november 01 2007

i woke up this morning and my first conscious thought was so strange:

i'm in love with today.

perhaps it's because i love thursdays. i do. better than the weekend. the anticipation gets me. {plus, jim + pam + michael + the gang have been waiting for me since this day last week. what other day can offer me that?}

but more likely, my heart knew it is because today is such a strange day in itself. last night was halloween. could anything mean {october} more? but then when we all wake up the day after this most october-esque day, it is november. our bright orange has faded into burnt and brown. and we can no longer resist the cold.

i hope every one of you had as wonderful a halloween as i did. and i hope every one of you, despite its magically abrupt transition, welcome november as i did this morning.