There I was, doing what every good Reference Assistant does when they are bored, filling the printers with paper and arranging the discarded or neglected print outs into piles.
And I noticed atop a document formatted like a class assignment, a name--a very distinct name--of a girl with whom I attended high school. I'm quite convinced that no other girl in the world could have this name...and there was her paper in my hands.
I didn't have any idea she was at this school.
30 September 2006
29 September 2006
With a vengeance
They're back.
Not just the leggings under the mini, crotch-showing jean skirts.
No, not just the leggings. Also the flats. A look taken together that I have never understood.
That's not what disturbs me the most about this year's undergrad fashion.
It's the leg-warmers that are throwing me off this week. High-heels. Flats. Tennis shoes. Keds.
You name it, I've seen it.
Why are these fashions appealing?
Someone explain this to me.
Not just the leggings under the mini, crotch-showing jean skirts.
No, not just the leggings. Also the flats. A look taken together that I have never understood.
That's not what disturbs me the most about this year's undergrad fashion.
It's the leg-warmers that are throwing me off this week. High-heels. Flats. Tennis shoes. Keds.
You name it, I've seen it.
Why are these fashions appealing?
Someone explain this to me.
It is a true friend
with whom you can share Middle English poetry and both of you are overjoyed and overwhelmed by its beauty.
It's an even truer friend who will share it with you over the phone.
It's an even truer friend who will share it with you over the phone.
You know how it never works out the way you need it to....
...whatever "it" may be?
My bathroom smells like pee.
Not because someone pees all over it - it's actually fairly clean for a tiny space shared by a foreign 18-year-old male and myself.
No, the bathroom smells like pee because...well that's actually the question: why does the bathroom have this acrid stench?
My landlord called her landlord who called the maintenance guy. It took him eight days to show up, and when he did, I was doing laundry, still in my pajamas with dirty hair at 11:30 am. Sometimes, when laundry is going in the utility room which shares a wall with our rank bathroom, the stench dissipates. Which is what happened the day the maintenance man came - Tony, I think his name is. Or Tom.
He likes cats a lot. Swore to himself growing up he was a dog man, but then this sweet blue-haired something or other cat came to his door and he fell in love with her. He started feeding her and then she gave birth to three babies before he even knew what happened. She abandoned her kittens with him, knowing he was a good man, a converted cat-lover. So now, he has these baby blue-haired something or other kittens, which his daughters adore.
He told me this story while sitting on the lid of our commode in the tiny bathroom, as I stood in my bedroom doorway in a cloud of my own filth.
The bathroom didn't smell that day. The lingering pee stench had evaporated, so Tom or Tony said.
To be fair, he smoked a lot. Not while he was here, but when he walked in, I choked on the tar/nicotine aura surrounding him. He couldn't smell because, I think, his nose has stopped working. You know how smokers have that weezing noise whenever they try to sniff - the sense of smell is deadened.
While the bathroom stench had let up for the day, it wasn't gone. Just mixed anew with the smokey pleasure of cigarettes.
He played with the cats for a while, cleaned out the fan on the bathroom ceiling and left because there was nothing he could do.
The next day, it returned - the pee smell.
It's really bad today.
My bathroom smells like pee.
Not because someone pees all over it - it's actually fairly clean for a tiny space shared by a foreign 18-year-old male and myself.
No, the bathroom smells like pee because...well that's actually the question: why does the bathroom have this acrid stench?
My landlord called her landlord who called the maintenance guy. It took him eight days to show up, and when he did, I was doing laundry, still in my pajamas with dirty hair at 11:30 am. Sometimes, when laundry is going in the utility room which shares a wall with our rank bathroom, the stench dissipates. Which is what happened the day the maintenance man came - Tony, I think his name is. Or Tom.
He likes cats a lot. Swore to himself growing up he was a dog man, but then this sweet blue-haired something or other cat came to his door and he fell in love with her. He started feeding her and then she gave birth to three babies before he even knew what happened. She abandoned her kittens with him, knowing he was a good man, a converted cat-lover. So now, he has these baby blue-haired something or other kittens, which his daughters adore.
He told me this story while sitting on the lid of our commode in the tiny bathroom, as I stood in my bedroom doorway in a cloud of my own filth.
The bathroom didn't smell that day. The lingering pee stench had evaporated, so Tom or Tony said.
To be fair, he smoked a lot. Not while he was here, but when he walked in, I choked on the tar/nicotine aura surrounding him. He couldn't smell because, I think, his nose has stopped working. You know how smokers have that weezing noise whenever they try to sniff - the sense of smell is deadened.
While the bathroom stench had let up for the day, it wasn't gone. Just mixed anew with the smokey pleasure of cigarettes.
He played with the cats for a while, cleaned out the fan on the bathroom ceiling and left because there was nothing he could do.
The next day, it returned - the pee smell.
It's really bad today.
25 September 2006
23 September 2006
Culture from two realms
Yesterday and today marked my annual semester weekend excursion. It wasn't so much that I traveled anywhere physically, but participated in activities unusual to my daily, monthly, yearly routine.
I attended my first real opera: Don Giovanni. Despite the long day that Friday turned out to be, the opera, which brought my near-twin cousin Stephanie to town to visit, was well worth the three hour duration of the show, the short time standing in line to get good seats, the dressing up, the whole shebang. Steph and I decided that if it weren't for Leoporello, Giovanni's servant, and Zerlina and Masseto, the opera would have dragged. But with their antics, it was fabulous. I loved the music more than the story. Well done, Mozart!
Today, I awoke to a rain storm and a flood watch from Weather.com. Not promising, since Evan and Emily were driving down here to take me out to the football game. When they got here, we debated all during lunch at Lennie's and even after when shopping for our team's paraphenalia, about sitting through a long game in the pouring rain or going to the movies to see Hollywoodland. We decided on the movie, and just before leaving downtown for the theatre, Dad called from Maine, where he and Mom had just arrived. It stopped raining in the seven minutes Ev was on the phone, so Em and I bought ponchos and we decided we were going to the game.
It was the best decision. We had a blast and had great seats on the end zone. The team didn't do well, but they didn't do poorly either. They lost, but only by a touchdown.
I'm tired. All of this socializing, even if it is with people who don't require me to entertain them and even if we're doing fun things that I enjoy, it wears me out. I'm used to being alone in my small room.
Now, it's back to the drawing board to finish a work assignment for a professor, to finish one class assignment and start another, and to sleep the sleep of contentment and happiness.
Cheers to a weekend well spent! To homecomings and moments of rest! To new jobs and new lives! To weddings! To life!
I attended my first real opera: Don Giovanni. Despite the long day that Friday turned out to be, the opera, which brought my near-twin cousin Stephanie to town to visit, was well worth the three hour duration of the show, the short time standing in line to get good seats, the dressing up, the whole shebang. Steph and I decided that if it weren't for Leoporello, Giovanni's servant, and Zerlina and Masseto, the opera would have dragged. But with their antics, it was fabulous. I loved the music more than the story. Well done, Mozart!
Today, I awoke to a rain storm and a flood watch from Weather.com. Not promising, since Evan and Emily were driving down here to take me out to the football game. When they got here, we debated all during lunch at Lennie's and even after when shopping for our team's paraphenalia, about sitting through a long game in the pouring rain or going to the movies to see Hollywoodland. We decided on the movie, and just before leaving downtown for the theatre, Dad called from Maine, where he and Mom had just arrived. It stopped raining in the seven minutes Ev was on the phone, so Em and I bought ponchos and we decided we were going to the game.
It was the best decision. We had a blast and had great seats on the end zone. The team didn't do well, but they didn't do poorly either. They lost, but only by a touchdown.
I'm tired. All of this socializing, even if it is with people who don't require me to entertain them and even if we're doing fun things that I enjoy, it wears me out. I'm used to being alone in my small room.
Now, it's back to the drawing board to finish a work assignment for a professor, to finish one class assignment and start another, and to sleep the sleep of contentment and happiness.
Cheers to a weekend well spent! To homecomings and moments of rest! To new jobs and new lives! To weddings! To life!
19 September 2006
Love's Autograph
Once only did he pass my way.
"When wilt thou come again?
Ah, leave some token of thy stay!"
He wrote (and vanished) "Pain."
John B. Tabb
Poems by John B. Tabb.
1894
"When wilt thou come again?
Ah, leave some token of thy stay!"
He wrote (and vanished) "Pain."
John B. Tabb
Poems by John B. Tabb.
1894
For my mother, my sister, my aunt, and all others who suffer as we do
To the insomniacs everywhere, I dedicate this poem from one of the most surprising and delightful discoveries of my college career, Poems by John B. Tabb, originally pub. 1894.
THE AGONY.
I wrestled, as did Jacob, till the dawn,
With the reluctant Spirit of the Night
That keeps the keys of Slumber. Worn and white,
We paused a panting moment, while anon
The darkness paled around us. Thereupon ---
His mighty limbs relaxing in affright ---
The Angel pleaded: "Lo, the morning light!
O Israel, release me, and begone!"
Then said I, "Nay, a captive to my will
I hold thee till the blessing thou dost keep
Be mine." Whereat he breathed upon my brow;
And, as the dew upon the twilight hill,
So on my spirit, over-weared now,
Came tenderly the benediction, Sleep.
THE AGONY.
I wrestled, as did Jacob, till the dawn,
With the reluctant Spirit of the Night
That keeps the keys of Slumber. Worn and white,
We paused a panting moment, while anon
The darkness paled around us. Thereupon ---
His mighty limbs relaxing in affright ---
The Angel pleaded: "Lo, the morning light!
O Israel, release me, and begone!"
Then said I, "Nay, a captive to my will
I hold thee till the blessing thou dost keep
Be mine." Whereat he breathed upon my brow;
And, as the dew upon the twilight hill,
So on my spirit, over-weared now,
Came tenderly the benediction, Sleep.
15 September 2006
I don't know WHAT the deal is
today, I started crying twice for absolutely no reason.
And THAT is not the reason. My emotions should be stable.
First, it was a song on the radio.
Then, I was reading my cousin's blog about her and her husband's journey to adopt two children.
What's going on in my mind?
And THAT is not the reason. My emotions should be stable.
First, it was a song on the radio.
Then, I was reading my cousin's blog about her and her husband's journey to adopt two children.
What's going on in my mind?
12 September 2006
Birthday photos
Just a couple for those of you who don't check out the GOFR.
Chocolate, anyone?
New boxers! Yay for a seamstress mother!
New necklace from the grandparents - beautiful.
Chocolate, anyone?
New boxers! Yay for a seamstress mother!
New necklace from the grandparents - beautiful.
I realized today that
for the first time in six or seven years, I make my bed every day.
I must be growing up.
I must be growing up.
11 September 2006
The Depth of Fall
Fall is deep. Unlike Winter, which is shallow, the icy cold chilling your bones. You could never go deep enough to get warm. Unlike Summer, when the heat is so oppressive, a heavy weight, that the very idea of depth is abhorrent. Spring, with everything blooming and the showers of color, speaks of Life, everything is light and free. But Fall. Fall is Deep. Like an ancient well, cool to the touch, full of history and meaning, but only if you search it out. You can find warmth in sweatshirts and jeans; comfort. Fall is an extension of the best hug you've ever had.
There is another aura about Fall that makes me love it. The Melancholiness. While there is so much loveliness - the break from the heat and humidity of Summer, the Leaves turning, the Air crisping, there is always a sense of longing, a creeping sadness or gloom that descends throughout the passing of this season. The gloom is, of course in part, the promise of Winter.
I haven't figured out if it is the drawing to a close of the year that brings on the sadness, or something greater, something deeper that speaks to the heart and soul. So much has been accomplished by this time of th year, making it, also, a time of reflection. For some, it might bring a sense of awe or joy, but for others, there is so much left to do and not enough time. Before Winter and the suffocating depth of darkness every day.
I wonder if there is a significant percentage of those born in the Fall who are Melancholies. I am. My cousin is (or so I think, since she and I are near duplicates of each other). There are more. My best friend. I could go on, but I'll stop there.
Today I was searching for poems about September, because I love this month and I was in need of some good poetry. I didn't really find anything online worth documenting here, so I asked Kelly to write me a September poem.
In September
they come back. The locusts
and the undergraduates and
that
one
crazy
lady
who carries carrot cookies in a plastic
department store bag. It is
the start of a year, like
Fiscal or
Chinese New. When it's over they
will leave and she will
find more cookies.
Please feel free to leave your September poem with me. I promise to appreciate it.
There is another aura about Fall that makes me love it. The Melancholiness. While there is so much loveliness - the break from the heat and humidity of Summer, the Leaves turning, the Air crisping, there is always a sense of longing, a creeping sadness or gloom that descends throughout the passing of this season. The gloom is, of course in part, the promise of Winter.
I haven't figured out if it is the drawing to a close of the year that brings on the sadness, or something greater, something deeper that speaks to the heart and soul. So much has been accomplished by this time of th year, making it, also, a time of reflection. For some, it might bring a sense of awe or joy, but for others, there is so much left to do and not enough time. Before Winter and the suffocating depth of darkness every day.
I wonder if there is a significant percentage of those born in the Fall who are Melancholies. I am. My cousin is (or so I think, since she and I are near duplicates of each other). There are more. My best friend. I could go on, but I'll stop there.
Today I was searching for poems about September, because I love this month and I was in need of some good poetry. I didn't really find anything online worth documenting here, so I asked Kelly to write me a September poem.
In September
they come back. The locusts
and the undergraduates and
that
one
crazy
lady
who carries carrot cookies in a plastic
department store bag. It is
the start of a year, like
Fiscal or
Chinese New. When it's over they
will leave and she will
find more cookies.
Please feel free to leave your September poem with me. I promise to appreciate it.
07 September 2006
When the Dean spoke in class
I was admiring his perfect Irish accent.
He's from there, you see, and his eyes look somewhat like Liam Neeson's. He was raised in Ireland and thus endured the Irish school system, all the way through Trinity College.
This is why I believe he sounds exactly like our Irish head-mistress extraordinairre - Miss Stella.
The monotone, extremely soft, even luxurious sounding voice - it's precisely the same voice, Stella and Mr. Dean.
Elaine, you simply would not believe this. Come meet him (well, it's hard enough for us to find him, he is so averse to library students, but if you catch him [perhaps he's like a leprechaun in that way] - you'll know exactly what I'm talking about).
He's from there, you see, and his eyes look somewhat like Liam Neeson's. He was raised in Ireland and thus endured the Irish school system, all the way through Trinity College.
This is why I believe he sounds exactly like our Irish head-mistress extraordinairre - Miss Stella.
The monotone, extremely soft, even luxurious sounding voice - it's precisely the same voice, Stella and Mr. Dean.
Elaine, you simply would not believe this. Come meet him (well, it's hard enough for us to find him, he is so averse to library students, but if you catch him [perhaps he's like a leprechaun in that way] - you'll know exactly what I'm talking about).
I made an astute comparison
about my fingers recently.
When held up, with the tips pointed heavenward, my fingers resemble middle-aged women:
heavy on the bottom
I rest my case - they're ugly fingers.
When held up, with the tips pointed heavenward, my fingers resemble middle-aged women:
heavy on the bottom
I rest my case - they're ugly fingers.
Dad to me, as I open presents
It's an anklet!
about the 18-inch silver, sparkly chain my grandparents gifted me this past weekend.
Does he think I have Cankles??
about the 18-inch silver, sparkly chain my grandparents gifted me this past weekend.
Does he think I have Cankles??
05 September 2006
4 days of festivities to make up for it
Today's my 24th birthday. But it seems like every other day.
I drove 3 hours. Unpacked a weekend's worth of stuff (including loads of scrumtrulescent leftovers). Read some. Went to class. Read some more. And will soon complete the evening with a movie (still debating with myself as to which one).
The weekend, however, was incredible and more than makes up for the dump of a day that today turned out to be (even if it was a perfect Fall day).
I've come to believe that my birthday actually falls on a day of the week - like Thanksgiving is always on a Thursday, and Easter on a Sunday. My special day is on the Saturday before Labor day, the reason being the influx of family that floods our house on the following Sunday and Monday. This year it was 37 people the most populated dinner. And that's missing a branch of the family that totals about 20 more people! This family is huge. And has more reunions than I know what to do with.
This year being the finest Fall that I can remember, made for a perfect weekend. Lots of outdoor games and eating on the patio without pitting out a shirt from the exertion of putting fork to mouth combined with 100% humidity. None of that.
I missed my twin, however, that is, my cousin Stephanie who is so similar to myself I wonder how we weren't twins. We're born 11 months apart to the day and have, since childhood, had similar personalities and interests to the point of scariness, at times. She's another friend like the ones I mentioned a few days ago. Same thoughts. Same minds.
Here's a toast to 24. Kelly says it was the best year of her life, no wait. It was the year she thought she was 24, but was really 23. Oh well. It seemed like 24 was the best. And I'll take that. Lots of exciting things coming up soon!
I drove 3 hours. Unpacked a weekend's worth of stuff (including loads of scrumtrulescent leftovers). Read some. Went to class. Read some more. And will soon complete the evening with a movie (still debating with myself as to which one).
The weekend, however, was incredible and more than makes up for the dump of a day that today turned out to be (even if it was a perfect Fall day).
I've come to believe that my birthday actually falls on a day of the week - like Thanksgiving is always on a Thursday, and Easter on a Sunday. My special day is on the Saturday before Labor day, the reason being the influx of family that floods our house on the following Sunday and Monday. This year it was 37 people the most populated dinner. And that's missing a branch of the family that totals about 20 more people! This family is huge. And has more reunions than I know what to do with.
This year being the finest Fall that I can remember, made for a perfect weekend. Lots of outdoor games and eating on the patio without pitting out a shirt from the exertion of putting fork to mouth combined with 100% humidity. None of that.
I missed my twin, however, that is, my cousin Stephanie who is so similar to myself I wonder how we weren't twins. We're born 11 months apart to the day and have, since childhood, had similar personalities and interests to the point of scariness, at times. She's another friend like the ones I mentioned a few days ago. Same thoughts. Same minds.
Here's a toast to 24. Kelly says it was the best year of her life, no wait. It was the year she thought she was 24, but was really 23. Oh well. It seemed like 24 was the best. And I'll take that. Lots of exciting things coming up soon!
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