Friday, December 31

new years entry

I finally wrote a Mindsay blog entry that didn't warn people that I would! I am so in a funk about writing. I think most of it has to do with some things that have been going on lately (most of it being these classes that take up so much time and trying to figure out where I am going to apply for postgraduate studies and what for: M.Phil? M.A.? *sigh*) and maybe it will all settle down soon. Especially interpersonal junk that is going on. Holidays are so packed full of people and orthodontist appointments.

I have a new bracket and a new chain and my orthodontist smelled like Ramen noodles, the chicken kind. The hygienist smelled like stale mouthwash and cologne. Weird, the things you notice lying for 45 minutes looking at bright lights with your mouth open while lots of sharp metal instruments poke around at your gums.

A nightmare, really.

So. I am all bummed about a few things; Rochester and Prof. Charlotte (what did I call her again?) are all being difficult. Gah. Harbin, I wish you could tell me what to do in your witty, easy way. I cannot seem to throw sequins in anybody's eyes and have no gold to show underneath for it anyway. Oh, weird. I can't even give a good analogy right now. Darnit. Leibniz, I need a Marchesque! I have been afraid to try and write something for him until now, but maybe I can come up with something soon. I have not had a creative spurt for months now and am feeling so dumb about it! But that is just me. Bweh. Sandy is going to smile at me:)

good new year. lots of books. woot.

Tuesday, December 28

friendships and the search for truth

Lewis (keep the visible cringing to a minimum, please) said that Friendship is seeing and seeking the same truth. Is this true? It cannot be true.

I have a friend who lives with a man not her husband and has no commitment to him. I have a friend who is homosexual. I have friends who refuse to believe in anything but themselves. I have friends who know what is right and do the opposite. I have friends who condemn my way of life but stick with me in hopes that I'll change. I have friends that look at pornography. I have friends who just plain don't THINK.

They are all my friends and we believe different things. But we like the same ideas about society (though not the reasons why) and we share some of the same interests and hobbies; writing or languages or reading or traveling.

If what Lewis says is true, then I am sorely in need of a make-over where it considers my choice of friends. In fact, let's just say that I wouldn't have many friends at all if I went with him. The friends I would have left would be those closest to me, but they were not the only ones I love. Gah, it is hard.

I would like to seek the same truth, but I am content and will settle for having the same interests. Friends who see and quest for the same truth you do are rare and not to be taken lightly or touched gingerly. Perhaps the problem is with me? I don't know.

God, you are out there and you see how my mind is fooling around with ideas. Get me to realise the truth, no matter the cost to me if it fits in with what you want. I want to know the truth and to be able to act on it in a way that reflects who you are. If any of this is what I'm meant to feel and what you want me to learn, let it be clear to me. If you must rip out my heart to make it, do that. Break me. You are the only one who can put me back together, anyway. If it doesn't hurt others, if it is your plan, please let me know and understand and learn so that I can hope.

Because hope in you does not disappoint us.

journaling the new year

I have a moleskine day journal that I'll be using primarily this coming year, which requires that I write a page in it per day. I don't think it will be hard, though I usually write in 2-5 page spurts in my current journal.

I bought another journal while I was in Scotland, a little pocket size one that has days in it, too--I shall write down funny things I see everyday, or else (!). And when I am feeling particularly miserable I will read Robert Browning, make faces at myself in the bathroom mirror, and read this book.

A few more odds and ends to fill up my current journal (I had hoped to do that before the new year hits, but I really doubt it, now).

Got the best compliment from one of my professors, recently. Am still hyped and keep the window open on my compy when am feeling grumpy. Am going to take full advantage of his thinking well of me and ask him to tutor me in my studies. Maybe. If I feel really bold and courageous.

Humm. Everyone is waking up. Am glad Jackob is here too. Even though it is odd to have an octave-lower voice in the house during the daytime. Time to get up and do things, time to read, time to fight, time to fly, time to be totally ridiculous and not regret it for a minute.

Thursday, December 16

breaking my heart, pt. 2

I feel sick. I want to throw up. I want to cry. I wonder whether a thousand times over whether I am committing every sin of pride anybody has ever accused me of. I wonder whether a piece of me has just committed suicide. Regardless of how important I am in the scheme of things, regardless of what other people are thinking of me right now, regardless of how I am supposed to try to feel about this, it hurts.

I know, it isn't as serious as it sounds, and I am making a fool of myself here. But you won't believe me if I don't.

Monday, December 6

breeeeeeaaaaking my heeeaaaaaaart

Ok ok now tell me what to do. I really want to go into Medieval Lit., but it won't do anything for anybody. I want to teach college classes. But in the end, what will it do for people? Nothing. It is what I love. What do I do? It will break my heart to change now! I hate it, but I want to DO something. I'm still ready to change the world. I hate it, but I've already made a decision. If only it didn't make a difference!

st. stephen's green

I have not a clue where this came from. I was writing a study guide for one of my exams and suddenly I couldn't get it out of my head. I don't like the way it is written and I dislike the subject; I find it trivial and rather silly. I realised only after I had finished it that it is set in St. Stephen's Green, in Dublin, Ireland. Also: I don't know whether there is a bridge in the park.

"You are so in love with ideas of people, never what they are."

The day was windy, but warm enough still that they sat on the steps of the bridge in the park. Small flowers grew out of the cracks in the cement. She stared hard at them, trying to let him finish his monologue before asking whether he meant this sudden burst of emotion for her.

"You have your head in the clouds because it protects you from seeing reality and what pain some of us are in! You hold out your hands to some invisible beggar, some invisible lover, and you forget about your friends and the people around you. What about your books? You are in love with that guy, aren't you?"

He nodded towards the thick volume she had in her hand, a finger holding the place she'd been reading from. She looked up at him, puzzled.

"Yeah, him. You talk about him all the time, think about him. You write about him all the time. " She stood up slowly, dusted herself off. Now that he had gone into attacking fantasy, there was really no point in going on listening to him. The ludicrousness would hit him later. Suddenly something he said brought her attention from pity to anger.

"Do you masturbate and think of him?"

She tilted her head to one side, looked at him. His face was defiant, wordlessly saying, "I still mean that". Balling her fist, she sent it flying into his face. She had never actually punched somebody before, but her effort was enough to snap his head sideways. Before he could recover, she walked over the bridge and out of the park.

The streetlights flickered on as she waited for her turn to cross the street. Seeing a familiar profile and hooded sweatshirt emerge from the park, she ducked behind a mother carrying her child. They crossed the street together and parted at a coffee shop, where the mother met someone coming out of a building, and she walked on into a lighted shop front.

"Café breve', please," she said, counting out the suddenly unfamiliar coins. She breathed a shaky sigh and found a chair in a small alcove. She took a deep breath, still angry and upset with him.

He could be absolutely intolerable, but it had been so nice early that afternoon to walk with him.

Someone sat down opposite her, with a large purse and the smell of scented candles and shop smells, and offered her a tissue. She said thank-you, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and forgot to look at her benefactor, who was still chatting on happily about the time of year.

"Are you in love?" asked the dyed shopper. "No, no, I'm not," she said, breathing out a sigh, more calm now.

Saturday, December 4

a friendship: meeting and memory

This is a passage from a novel we are reading in one of my classes; it is one of my favorites because it is one of those moments of brilliant insight that catches your eye, makes you double-take on such a distracting paragraph in a novel of nearly unbearable characters. But without further ado:

"Brief, broken, often painful as their actual meetings had been what with his absences and interruptions [...] the effect of them on his life was immeasurable. There was a mystery about it. You were given a sharp, acute, uncomfortable grain--the actual meeting; horribly painful as often as not; yet in his absence, in the most unlikely places, it would flower out, open, shed its scent, let you touch, taste, look about you, get the whole feel of it and understanding, after years of lying lost. Thus she had come to him; on board ship; in the Himalayas; suggested by the oddest things..."

--Virginia Woolf, in Mrs. Dalloway

Friday, December 3

think "christmas"

What a very interesting evening. I have learned many things about several friends and have done no class work whatsoever. I am still regretting the Christmas Poems blog but I suppose I will have to finish it tomorrow. Or at least begin it tomorrow.

Why am I putting off so many things? It is so very strange! The house is clean, people are fed, my friends have been written to. Why is it taking me so long to get this stupid thing done!? It shouldn't have taken me this long. Tomorrow. That does it. Tomorrow.

And then: think "Christmas", dahling.

new project. woe is me. it is my own fault.

I am a horrible person. I am stressed out, I think. Why? Because I just started ANOTHER project. Oh my. WHY did I do that? I don't know. But I did want to read through the Christmas Poems book in a study. How silly of me. Oh good grief . . .


Well, I also cannot wait until I get a certain Christmas present of a camera, which will be oodles of fun:) Next term is looking shaky, though, because I am having a weird Friday. It is all weird. Crazy people. Umm. Right. Enough running off at the mouth about nothing, pick a book or something to write about instead of blabbering!

Wednesday, December 1


I'm Figwit!
You're Figwit! Who's Figwit? Figwit stands for
"Frodo Is Great Who Is That?". Who
is that? Who knows? He's an elf at the
Council of Elrond, sitting next to Aragorn.
He's v. silent.

Which little-known character in Middle-earth are you?
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