midwest airlines care club

so, i'm sitting in the executive lounge of the milwalkee airport reading the wall street journal wearing a shirt that says: "nothing tips like a cow - wisconsin". kate and i bought matching shirts at the airport store; she's wearing hers too. we also bought semi-matching shirts yesterday at kohl's....perhaps these recent purchases are cause for alarm regarding our personal autonomy and individuality? personally i think its just another case of my sense of humor being misunderstood....which is partly what promotes actions such as these. hahahaaaa. i also invested in a new purse at the airport store, one with elephants and zebra stripes on it (on sale: $9.99!) because my very well loved yellow one was sporting some nasty holes in the faux-leather skin and the interior smelled curiously like cat piss. i even made kate smell it. hahahaaa.

wisconsin is a peculiar(?) but enjoyable place, but i am glad to be leaving. new jersey is my home, no matter how ugly or unfriendly.

kate is calling....time to leave :-)

see you back in the garden state!

cheers.

chicago.

there was a break today in what seemed to be a chronic rain spell, so we took advantage of the glorious sunshine and went to Chicago to see the Darwin exhibit. Natural selection is every bit as interesting as it is relevant. Then kate and i cooked a horrible, horrible, horrendous casserole. It was so dreadful that kate's dad turned red while eating it and kept saying things like, "yup" "mhmmm" while kate's mom tried to assure us it wasn't a failure by insisting that the spices were blended brilliantly (they weren't). And then we ate some equally dreadful peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on dry tapioca bread. We didn't really think that bread purchase through.

Eh. I'm tired, bloated,itchy, and having bizzare dreams nightly, but i've been having some really enjoyable tea this past week.

Ireland in 6 days and counting.

west bend.

a fat cat curled under a tin roof, rain dripping off the shingles in streams, an elephant peeing on the roof! fat cats taking cat naps need the YMCA treadmills to go for a run. milwalkee is nice, though it looks like new brunswick.

the pine barrens.

I wish I were getting more sleep because in deprevation of it, I've become quite the cranky little creep.

Regardless, today was a very productive day:
-Kate and I moved into our new apartment off of Nichol (yayayay!),which should swing some much needed positive vibrations our way.
-At work this morning, I successfully taught my first set of classes without assistance (yayayay!);
-Kate, Tim, and I had our first meeting with Detective Hudson to collect information before our first meeting of the tentative "New Brunswick Off-Campus Student Collective." (yayayay!)
-And then, Kate and I made this really awesome outline for the group, along with tentative goals and community events!

I am really excited about this new project. It could potentially be very powerful in uniting the dismembered off-campus community and raising related awareness among students! I'm all about awareness lately, which may parallel my love for processes and furthering comprehension?

Ah. New beginnings are beautiful, aren't they, Kelly? (I feel as if I am most consistantly imagining you as my audience when I write in this blog, and so felt it completely appropriate to address you directly. hehe!)

I'm all moved in (I've even moved Paul from thepinebarrens), hardly packed for Wisconsin tomorrow (eep!), barely comprehending Ireland next weekahhhhhh, and all in all, feeling much happier than in that last post (which I embarassingly deleted) soooooooooo, here it goes. Here life goes, and goes, and "so it goes?" Well, sure it does, but I'm still here aren't I? Breathing and moving (if rather slowly) and tired as hell. Soooo, let's move it out and up and around until I'm facing it all over again.

Dad: "How's the apartment?"

Kate: "Really great, actually."

Dad: "That apartment's nice, man."

Kate: "Yeah, it looks a lot nicer with our stuff unpacked, and with the new floors and everything...."

Oh no. no, no, no! Why does that^ simple conversation give me sudden anxiety? My segmented brain must have cut off one of the parallel streams struggling to flow through it. My stubborn subconscious has silently and maliciously clipped off rationality, thus stunting otherwised syncronized emotion, or visa versa. Fuck. One's rushing to catching up to the other and, oh here it goes...

Oh, and what the hell am I supposed to do about how I "feeeel." You know, when you feel something you don't want to "feeeel", so you throw in a few extra 'e's for emphasis, or to represent the act of speaking past the lump in your throat, or maybe even the act of drawing the emotion unwillingly from your body. perhaps through your belly button?

Regardless, I'm "feeeeling." And it's fucking confusing as hell when you've built an environment around you that does not accept your found emotion because you built it that way. Yes, you. No, not you, but I. I built your environment in opposition, laid the sturdy barracades for myself because it had been so obvious that i had learned from my mistakes. But now, now I have to add two extra 'e's to the feelings at the tip of my brain because I've been nursing an immobile ball of saliva in my throat for so long. I've been nursing inaction because I desperately fear disappointment, though I know any hopes of 'happiness' die within such stagnant pools. I've let a puddle become a small, stagnant sea of hopeless inaction, but no. more. nomore. no more. I will not be afraid, or I will be afraid, and act with a jaw clenched tight and shaking hands.


[I'm not sure when this post became a true inner monologue, mixing "you" and "i" in paragraphs as if I were a being with two talking heads but as a note to the reader(s): I am sorry. I'm just struggling with somethings. Please, bear with me...I swear I'm not the Grizzly sort...or two headed, and anyway, is it really so mental to rant about change?]


Cheers.

the roman empire.

I put this post in my "drafts" last week. I wasn't sure I really wanted anyone to read it, or rather, I didn't think anyone would want to read it. But I think it is relevant to many parts of the country, and can be versatile in individual application, so, here it is:

A response to the debate with Paul last night about Bergen County.

Recap: He was trying to convince me that we, as a county, are ignorant consumers for accepting large annual property tax increases and refusing to regionalize our small towns. He believes that regionalization will solve our tax problems, but being a native from Atlantic County and a "planner", I don't think he can fully appreciate the nature of the beast that is Bergen County or the nature lifestyles I've grown up around.

Here's what I think:

In order for Bergen County to actively participate in progressive social systems [governmental, educational, civic, ect.], it must first collapse. But, as long as people are willing to pay rising property taxes that ensure the safety of their communities without being further inconvenienced - and though it pains me to admit, I do believe that property tax DOES influence local crime - it will continue to function as a puppet to "big business." Personally (and I think this proves my point), I'm just happy that I live in a place where I can run at 1 a.m. if I wish to, without worry. New Brunswick's lovely crime rate has done nothing for my running. People are likely to avoid change if it causes inconvience, and if there is any group of people who will choose inaction over action to avoid inconvience, it is the residences of Bergen County. Change is a hassle that people will pay to avoid, and political and administrive officals alike will encourage inaction to maintain power, simple as that. Action is time that these people don't have, what with their daily commute to a fifty hour+ a week career and their children in Montisuri schools, and the political system does little to accomediate the average resident's hectic schedule. Change starts at the polls and the hours for voting are usually during the week, during the day, when the average voter is working to pay those rising property taxes - subsequently, residence pay the annual taxes because they can not afford the inconvience it would be to their agenda to vote.

Grand, idealistic plans, regulations, systems, and restrictions for a district are pointless if you can not get its residence to vote for them. So, before we discuss these plans for my County, or for any district whose fundemental systems are dysfunctionally functioning, why don't we try to educate our voters in a way that appeal to THEIR lifestyles - not the lifestyles of the planner or politians, who can hardly understand a system they do not live in themselves - and make it convenient for them to vote for these more progressive plans; keep the polls open later, and have them open on weekends.

Now here come the questions on the tip of my brain: How can you make an area just as safe with lower taxes? I mean, let's face it, affluent areas have less condense, violent crime. And how are property tax and property value directly related? Because I know if taxes and value go down, crime tends to move in. It's an undisputable trend. How do you convince a person that this won't happen, and then, how do you keep your word? Bergen County residents are pretty savvy to the lying ways of the New Jersey political system. So how can you make a overtly corrupt system trustworthy to a skeptical voter? If they don't vote for you, you can't change the systems in which they live, and who wants to vote in support of a system that is just as dysfunctional as the districts within it? These people are interested in having "the best" of everything for themselves and their children: can you promise them good schools, safe neighborhoods, and the luxury in which they live now through these other systems? If not, you'll just have to wait for residents to see such taxes as an inconvience. Certainly, there will be people who will be forced out of the area by taxes, maybe even my own family, but it IS still a highly densely populated area and as long as their are people who find that area desirable, and have the money to afford its fees, there will be some always to take the place of people who leave.

past.

I'm going to take a walk with a memory I would love to restructure. Is it possible to restructure a dysfunctional relationship to function in the future? Or should I give up such a hopeful pipedream? I am never sure that I made any decisions that aren't completely compulsive and irrational, and it terrifies me to think that I can't trust myself. I'm all I have really.

remission.

All though chronic anxiety has steadily become a pillar of my life, its intensity seems to be in a remission of sorts:

I had a nice day today, though the heat may have dulled my apparent enthusiasm, and I relaxed enough to truly enjoy my friends, as well as newly acquired company. I am seeing more of a need for unity, and such an idealism comforts my soul in ways that are hard to express without seeming foolhardy. I am constantly trying to stay grounded, or more accurately, trying to find ways to apply progressive thinking practically. I am excited at the prospect of small successes I may have, though I will admit, hardly prepared for any large failure. I need growth for my hope to survive similar to the way that I need air to breathe, and I can hardly stand not to breathe.

Jen and I are organizing a potluck for Wednesday night. Everyone is encouraged to bring music and blank CDs to engage in some sort of "music sharing." I love gatherings like that, where knowledge and food are shared and absorbed; full bellies, full minds! : ]

If only I could gain more clarity, or discover a passion more specific than process and truth, truth being overtly obsolete in such a random, post-modern world.

I hope I am not investing too much of myself into causes and people that will only prove to disappoint. I am always terribly frustrated by my irrational fear of commitment, and paradoxical need for it.

Paul is eating Nutella out of the container with his finger, while holding a wine glass filled to the brim with some blood red cocktail or another. I love him : ] Isn't it funny how endearing a person can be in a compromising moment? One of my favorite feelings comes these moments of endearment, but it is always followed by an incredibly overwhelming sadness. I wish Paul were not always so compromised. Still, endearment has always appealed to me more than glamour or beauty; a crooked smile, a lisp, a geeky-guilty hobby, a quirky gesture, a twitch. There are so many of these qualities, imperfections perhaps, that I find to be the divine essence of humanity, and something I certainly could not live without.

Cheers.

eastern influence.

sitting in a clean room, unable to analyze last night's primary dream.
shades pulled back fully from the windows, defused light floats, mellowing, over bodies and belongings.
ravi shankar tirelessly weaves gorgeous misery with his sitar from the record player.
curried vegetables stew in the crock pot [my mother gave me] in the kitchen; parsnips and tomatoes, peppers and potatoes, steeping seductively in a savory tofu sauce. preparation for another potluck :]
overwhelming calm possesses the room, flowing through veins, pulsating slowly and thoroughly, to even the most remote and minute of capillaries.

I am thinking fondly of yellow and wondering, would it be silly to name a child Marigold?

.

I have butterflies. and a gastric burritobelly. kate is on the phone with her father. i'm scared of what he's telling her. her expression is difficult to read. pray, please.

bottle cap mishap.

As I opened my eyes, their lashes brushed lightly against my comforter, which had been haphazardly flung over my head in a desperate attempt to avoid the sunlight flooding through the attic window positioned almost directly above my bed. I pressed my thumb curiously against my left middle finger and, as anticipated, a long, thin cut throbbed dully at the tip. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, causing my lips to twitch as my muscles tried to recall the action into their functional memory. It had been a while since I had made the attempt to smile.

Bewildered by the subjects of my nightmares - I had dreamt, most fretfully, about eating dairyful icecream, and the reappearance of my ex-housemate, kyle -I remained in bed with the covers over my face. I felt both terribly guilty and horrifyingly satisfied about eating the icecream, and a rising, seething anger grew in my belly as I recalled the fictional event; anger directed toward the action itself, as well as the action as a representative for all my impulsive/compulsive behaviors. As for the dream involving Kyle, well, he had been mad at me, and probably is beyond my dream-state. That thought brought no rush of feelings whatsoever.

I had been exceptionally drunk last night and retired surprisingly early, though perhaps at a completely reasonable hour given how early i had started drinking. It had been an odd night, last night. I hadn't prepared to be in such a large group of people. People always make me feel uncomfortable, especially when they inquire about the nature of the injuries to my thumbs and their origin. I really have to make an effort to stop that habit.

Those thoughts quickly evaporated and I began to pick at my right thumb as a sudden recollection hit the tip of my brain with appropriate force: Jaime, holding my cell phone in the dark of Elaine's room, talking to my boss on the phone while Kate and I giggled wildly on Elaine's bed. I smiled for a second time, forcing my muscles to assume the unfamiliar pose once again. She had quit my job for me. I hadn't been able to do it myself, and though that perhaps that makes me a coward, I refused to dwell on that notion at that moment, especially not on that moment, not when I was finally free!

Free! Free to feel my face twitch from under the bedsheet yet again, knowing that I will never again have to wait on a single table at that establishment or listen to Hota's (sic) annoying banter about diet teas.

Having mulled over the last twenty four hours for an unhealthy amount of minutes, I sat up, back against the wall, and faced Kate, who's face was turned toward mine from behind a glowing computer screen. Her eyes, heavy lidded and gleaming, bore signs of similiar recollection, and subsequent recognition. I reached for my cellphone, checked the screen, and triumphantly ignored the voicemail I was certain had been left by my boss, well, ex-boss actually. With hope, I crawled back under the layer of blankets from which I had just emerged, and curled into a comfortable ball. The corners of my mouth tugged at my brain again, but this time there was only the slightest delay in the action they were trying to perform, and I smiled broadly without reservation.

series finale.

things i've done this week:

called out of work with a completely ambiguous excuse.
showered (once).
been nice to my mother.
been ferociously mean to my mother.
had an anxiety attack.
been noticably anti-social.
eaten 2 entire family sized bags of potato chips.
ran in a monsoon, complete with actual ear-splitting thunder and lightening that left a lingering, painful blanket of red behind my eyes. it was worth it.
had tea with two old friends (seperately. lately i can only tolerate one human being at a time).
contemplated my compulsive behaviors.
being unable to understand them fully, endulged completely in my compulsive behaviors, then cried in frustration.
cried in a department store.
ignored many phone calls, feeling a surprisingly small amout of remorse.
watched the news, the contents of which immediately reminding why i do not watch the news.
brought a book out to dinner with my family, and read it through all three courses.
made my stride more masculine whenever i felt a person was trying to figure out my sexual orientation, then watched, thoroughly amused, as they pondered over it.
finished the harry potter series! then cried because i had devoted so much time into reading them.

over all, a highly productive week I'd say.

cheers.

e-mail etiquette

I feel so inefficient, and I'm terribly angry that my boss did not bother to e-mail me until this morning to tell me i don't have work this week; i drove down from Saddle Brook to Princeton this morning for training. sigh. no matter, i'm going to drive back home later today, set up a reclusive thicket in the backporch room and read the sixth Harry Potter (I've spent the last two days reading the Order of the Phoniex). I don't mind being a little behind in the series. I prefer it actually, as i feel i manage to avoid some of the hype surrounding its completion, and besides, "slow and steady wins the race," right? I love illusions to turtles. One of today's themes at work was "Frogs and Turtles," but I was disappointed to find many more frog activities in the lesson plan; i love turtles.

I'm glad I've finally retrieved my taste for reading again. I had been quite worried for a while that last semester's load had burnt me beyond repair.

I drew a couple sketches of the children in class today. One of them came out relatively decent, given the circumstances; she was moving all over the place.

Me mum cut my hair again while I was home. It's really short :-)

I hate to leave Kate alone in NB for the rest of the week, but I'm far too sad to say in this room. I handle my sadness better at home, particularly in the backroom, which is painted a soft yellow and lined with sun-windows on three sides. Sunlight and yellows definitely work to improve my mood. I love yellows and the impression they leave on me. It always amazes me how effective colors are at communicating expression and emotion.

I was wholely unable to socialize yesterday while visiting my aunt, and it made me wonder if i've ever really had the ability. I don't think I've ever really spoken what's on my mind, though I believe there was a time in my life I was much better at bullshitting interactios with people. I've always enjoyed solitude much more than crowds, though I've been told I'm a fairly good actress. Ah, but I loved that, acting on stage. Loved. and was pretty good. But plays are easier than speaking your mind. I've always been comfortable conveying what is on other people's minds through analysis and acting and so forth...but I can not speak my own freely, ever. I'm tired of dwelling neurotically on my insecurities.

I hope Kate and I can find tenants before we leave for Wisconsin. I hope I do not completely break down.

I have always managed to have too much hope, but hardly any faith. I think I function on cycles of disbelief and disappointment. Perhaps this explains the chronic sadness that weighs heavily on my stomach.