I can't write any poems.
This isn't writer's block.
This is a
block.

1. Things keep feeling less and less real. Simon and Dee and I went to Steak and Shake and I told them how sometimes I feel like my bed isn't real and I am making it up completely and Dee agreed and I wondered how, if my bed, a material object, no longer feels real what can feel real. Simon suggested maybe people will become more real and that is what I want. I want real people.

2. Look, I'm sorry I wrote about you on my blog, I'm sorry I've a passive aggressive Minnesotan and I get drunk and I feel things and I express my feeling more. I want to express them all the time, I just don't. But asking other people how angry I am and talking to other people about what I said is equally as passive aggressive and I meant what I said.

3. I just want to write poetry, but I can't articulate anything.

Yes, I am bewildered. But it is still on my blog. Erin is reading everything you are saying about me. We kept getting her to drink. Yes.

fGezsr, I really want something better than nprmal to happen.

Partaking in the usual spirits for the usual reasons. I would prefer that unusual things happen, but this is unlikely.

Headache.

I think I am starting to write too many words and my words are starting to get lost amongst themselves. I need to start writing more poems. More poems with not very many words in them.

I think my body said I needed it and I did what my body said even if it was illogical.

I really like going to Jazz Night. It makes the week end better. I just feel good.

It's still illogical. I don't care. I'm just going to let it be until it kills me. Everything kills me. I like/dislike everything too much and then it kills me.

John Williams and I were kind of discussing this at Jazz Night. I said that I want my life to be above average, and he said I should be happy if my life is average, but I'm not like that. He told me not to give a shit. I said that I always give a shit and I would be an entirely different person if I didn't. He agreed.

I'm sorry for the things I blog about while drunk. I know people (person at least) is mad at me. Maybe multiple people. I don't even know. I need to be more confrontational. Let's have a confrontation.

And you let's actually talk, I really want to. And you, I'm so glad we've been spending time together, it's made things so much better.

I like to talk to people anonoymously on my blog while drinking. It's slightly less embarrassing than actually talking to them. I just feel the need to contact everyone I would ever want to contact. It's horrible.

But you all know who you are. I found that out this week. It's very strange. But it's not strange at all. I'm glad it's like that, except I'm not glad because people are upset with me, but they are only upset because we are passive aggressive and haven't actually talked. I don't actually mean to do bad things to anyone. Let's actually talk.

I have drunk munchies and no food. Bummer.

I wish everything I wanted to do right now didn't make me feel guilty.

I'm fairly certain pictures are an entirely inaccurate way of identifying people.

I'm also fairly certain that people who have a lot of picture of themselves have at least a small degree of vanity.

She was the first human without a body.
They took her traveling to state fairs.
People paid ten dollars to look at an empty box.
She was inside or she wasn't.
Without form, she didn't have to be anywhere.

They marvelled, how beautiful.
She was the best looking empty box, but it was no comfort.
They only said she was a woman
because her speech was curvey,
emotional like having multiple orgasms.
She's never had an orgasm, nevermind several.
She didn't have nerves.
She didn't have emotions.
She couldn't smell anything.

Her mother had bones and cut away
flesh to reveal the full uterus
without a body.
Bones mean terror, her mother said.
That's why we are stuck to the ground.
She was not stuck to the ground,
she could not stick to anything.
If she could have longing, she would long to be stuck
but she had no tastebuds.

Other people tried jumping out of their skin
to be like her.
There are now three traveling boxes.

But you and me

It's not just you,
You know.
Overwhelmed by the grass
The dew drops!
You cried.
Things greater, you could barely stand.
So we didn't.

I don't like this distinction.
People like you and me.
As if no one else liked it when it rains.

But do they?

I am frustrated with people again. I don't know what happened. I was just sitting in class and everything seemed so awful. Awful in the sense that I have been struggling to relate to people lately, which normally isn't a difficulty for me, but I've had trouble deciphering why people act the way that they act and the things that they do seem terrible, though my description of terrible doesn't seem to match up to anyone else's version of terrible. This sounds silly and may sound offensive, but I don't mean it to be, but it seems like in Christianity, with my limited knowledge of it, goodness is emphazied and the fact that there can be people that aren't good is emphasized even greater, but I always have assumed that people are good or try to be good and altruism above anything else applies. I never really thought that could be untrue until the past year or so and since then I've tended to assume bad things about everyone preemptively. I feel so silly. It feels stupid not to trust the intentions of others and hate the things that they are doing and feel like they love things all wrong. How can people love things all wrong? That is so contradictory, but in my head it's true.

This is not to imply anything greater on my side. I always like to talk about people in terms of planets. Usually I feel like I'm on a planet and sometimes people join me on my planet and it's a fairly accessible place to get to, but right now I feel really far away and like I'm purposefully going further away. Not from everyone. There are some people I like a lot. That's the other trouble, even when I like people I don't know how to get to them anymore. The idea just terrifies me. But it's what I want, so badly.

I'm being melodramatic. I wrote some poems today though, I will post those next. They are also melodramatic. This is my tendency as a person. Last year in Italy, I wrote a poem, with my usual level of melodrama and my advisor said that he used to think poems should supress those things, but he was starting to think they should push them and sometimes I agree. Like right now. Rosario Castellanos in her essay, "If Not Poetry, Then What?" says:

When all of my books of poetry are collected in a single volume that opens to a first line that affirms the world cries old sterile, like a mushroom, there's nothing left to do but quickly proceed to explain. Well as commentators made me see in their good time, the mushroom is the antithesis of sterility since it proliferates with shameless abundance and nearly a total lack of stimulation. Actually, what I wanted to say then was that the world had a genesis as spontaneous as that of the mushroom, that it had not sprung from any divine plan, that it was not the result of the internal laws of matter, nor was it the conditio sine qua non for the development of the human drama. That the world was, in short, the perfect example of fortuitousness. If this was what I wanted to say then why didn't I say it? Simply because I don't want to do so.

I've been stuck on this goddamn section of her essay for weeks. I haven't been able to write my journals because of it and now they are due on Tuesday. But I like it most because of what it grants the writer. The writer may or may not know truths and may or may not write truths, but whatever she writes it doesn't matter because she is doing what she wants to do.

I'm not sure any of this makes sense. I want someone to talk to.

I don't think I'm a pessimist. I don't think I like the word pessimist or optomist. I think I'm just such an optomist that things disappoint me. Like this weekend. This weekend could be really excellent or it could be just another sort of lackluster weekend.

I've been reading a collection of Pablo Neruda's poetry and I think I like his love poems better than most other love poems, because I think he articulates love beautifully. I like this one a lot. Also this one. I like them because they are so unashamed in their declaration yet they are so inarticulate in a purposeful manner.

I am writing a blog just to write a blog even though I have nothing to say. That statement always seems like a lie. I always have things to say even if they are just the samethings repeated over and over. Somethings need to be repeated over and over. But whatever I have to say, I don't want to say it here.

On sharing art:
One time I got into a discussion about how sharing art with people you like a lot can ruin that specific piece of art/music/writing/movie if you have a falling out with them. I considered the option of sharing nothing with nobody, but I like to share things with people. Oh well.

Also, taking a nap before workshop and then trying to finish my work in the time left is an awful idea.

I want to go outside.
I miss being outside.
I didn't spend enough time outside when it was nice.

Let's go outside, okay?

I've had a lot of struggles with people lately. I like them a lot or I dislike them a lot or I like them so much I dislike it. I've liked people a lot the last couple of days. It's been really nice. I hope this continues.

I have gotten no work done today.

Blair sent me this lovely video though. The real question: Why didn't we get tattoos of sharks?

Clothes have been bothering me lately. I feel really far away from my skin.

People are nice at the wrong times. Like when I don't want to like them because I resent them for whatever reason.

Autonomy:
noun, plural -mies.
1. independence or freedom, as of the will or one's actions: the autonomy of the individual.
2. the condition of being autonomous; self-government, or the right of self-government; independence: The rebels demanded autonomy from Spain.
3. a self-governing community.

Some people really don't understand how to live the meaning of this word. It's something I feel is necessary for people to develop.

I'm still in the library

Some people are just beautiful when they do things.

I'm in the library. My chair is taken, which is probably for the best. When I sit there I generally work for about half an hour and then fall asleep. I'm trying to write, which makes me feel oddly guilty when I have other homework I should be doing. I like to think of locations as solutions, but that is often not the case.

I feel like the lights should be off, but I'm scared of the dark. I feel like there are things that could make this lying-in-bed-apathy a worthwhile experience, but I don't know what they are. I think about tea and making some. I am always hindered by the fact that I cannot do any work in my room until it is clean and I cannot get out of bed to clean it.

I should go work out, but I am fairly certain that I work out for the wrong reasons (to be thinner) and it makes very little difference.

I might go to the library.

One time a friend and I had a conversation about listening to people read poems or prose they have written or anything really. When people read things that are interesting, I think about other things and then come back to what they are reading. This might be rude, but generally I find it means that I like what they've written.

I think people like bodies differently. Which may seem really obvious and is hard to articulate, but the differences often struck me in writing, particularily in writing by women.

I also think it is possible to glorify the body without objectifying it. At the same time, I think there is a point, in a certain state of mind where it becomes too much about the skin and you forgot that there is another person there or you forget they exist as more than a body.

Oh geeze, me and bodies. I just like them so much. Don't most people?

There was a cat outside of the PR office today. He was curled up in a dry spot and he looked up every time someone paused to look at him.

We called the Humane Society. It was very sad.

Most of the time, I don't have vague dreams. My dreams are obviously a direct reflection of what I am feeling. Normally I dream about people I know and that are on my mind. Apparently no one is on my mind. For the last week or so, dreaming has been like watching a movie. I am the spectator. Last night I dreamed about a man who had a creepy little niece who did horrible things to him, but no one believe him. Then I dream that this girl was in chemistry class and accidently ingested some of the chemicals which made her start giving birth to giant bees. I do wake up less bothered though. I don't confuse these dreams with real life.

I do nothing, for hours. I have things I probably should be doing, but I don't do them. Time is flying, but nothing is happening.

I did have a good weekend though. I got to see lots of people that I enjoy seeing. I spent too much money and ate too much food and lots of general acts of gluttony.

On Saturday I was in Kaldi's with Dee and Julia. We were playing Boggle. Both Dee and Julia are excellent at this game. I am not so good. I find lots of three letter words. An old man that I've seen in Kaldi's before comes up to me and says, "Excuse me for staring, but you are a very pretty young lady." I hadn't noticed him staring. I had been looking at the boggle board. I wasn't sure what to do. I mumbled, "thanks" and kept writing things down. My boggle game continued to disintegrate. The situation made me really uncomfortable. I'm not sure why.

I just get scared, okay? Because when I care about things, I worry.

I need to write more.

Geeze I'm drunk, let's say everything, let's say all things. Guess which one is about you!

1. I just need reassurance that we can be friends.

2. Since you've started dating him, you've been less fun.

3. Since you've started dating her, you've lost all your personality.

4. I am so glad we are friends.

5. I do miss you. Really.

6. I miss you too.

7. I still think you are awful. I also think you are awful and you are awful. If it weren't for the three of you, I wouldn't have so many goddamn problems.

8. Let's be friends.

9. Let's not be friends.

10. Mostly lets be friends.

11. I will post a sober post tomorrow.

My life just lost all excitement.

I need a new source.

You're A Pretty Human Being

I've written before about how I always make the assumption that everyone is sad or everyone is happy and usually it reflects my feelings in some manner. Lately I've felt that everyone is sad and it's nice to see people happy. Except I don't know that anyone is really happy, I just make more assumptions about these so called happy people.

Laura told me a nice story tonight about how Dan listened to a song in the morning and then she came back to our apartment and I was listening to the same song and then later the same song was playing in the caf, and I just liked it because everyone was listening to the same song on the same day which means that it must be right for something.

I think I believe in fate, but I don't know what that means, just that I like it when the right things happen at the right time and I feel like eventually things will be better. I trust in the fact that eventually things will be better.

I went to the counselor today and we talked about how I struggle with trusting people, but I have trust in the notion of feeling better again and maybe that's enough for right now. Then I told her I feel it's silly not to trust people and really, I sort of have a great deal of trust in that I like to tell everyone everything. I'm not sure what I don't trust. I don't like the notion of being delicate.

I hate it when people act horrible in a manner that you expect them to. I want people I don't find smart to be defiantly intelligent and people that I am distrustful of to be trustworthy.

You know how on campus there are people who are known pretentious assholes and this is general knowledge. Do the people themselves know it?

I would like to talk to more people more often.

More about the asian beetle:

During work I read that in the winter asian beetles hibernate. That's why you find dead ones everywhere in the winter. They aren't dead, they are simply sleeping. That's why there are living ones everywhere in the spring.

More things about me:

I'm overwhelmed by very little right now. Thus I am in bed with readings.

I heard the other day that when you kill an asian beetle (the bugs that look like ladybugs, but aren't), they release a smell that attracts other asian beetles to the spot. This really doesn't make eense. Why would anything flock to the spot where another of it's kind has suffered a vicious death or murder? On Shark Week, they have a special where they talk about how the sharks flee from the scent of other dead sharks and they test out a shark repellent that is based on that theory. Can you imagine if mass amounts of human beings flocked to cemetaries? Is burial the equivalent? But asian beetles can't bury their dead. They just fly around without paying much attention.

Getting in front of a camera is like getting in front of a person.

I have nothing to say. I am awkward, the things that come out of my mouth are different from what is in my head. I am self-conscious.

It's interesting though.

I need some goddamn emotional stability. I've been up and down the whole day. I just want to stay in one happy place.

Planes

She had wanted to disappear her entire life, so when the plane she was on disappeared off the radar screen, it was like a dream come true, aside from the fact that she was dead, which could also be thought of as another dream come true.
When she left, she hadn't meant to take an entire airplane with her, even though everyone secretly desires to knock off the happily-after-newlyweds, glowing with rays of happiness, and fondling each other as the plane hit the air or the crying baby that could so easily be snuffed out by one of those little blue pillows that do very little to aid comfort.
It was convenient, her life represented by a green beeping dot on a screen, ticking like her heart until it stopped and felt as if she had fallen from the sky. It was a sensation that she had felt many times before in her life like when her boyfriend had broken up with her or when she found out her mother had cancer. She had to admit that it was much more pleasant this time, especially the sequence of the following days, as there weren't any.

I think I am very very angry. But I don't know what I am angry with and I don't know how to stop being angry. I can place some of my anger towards certain people, but that's not enough. I need to figure out how to make it go away.

I was running an errand and I saw a man on a bike take out a paper bag with a bottle in it, drink from it, and then stick the bottle back in his coat. That's the kind of day today is.

I'm kind of frustrated with German Club, which is rare for me. It's kind of my fault that I'm frustrated. But I end up doing everything and I shouldn't be, but I don't actually make people do things that they are supposed to be doing and when people don't do it, I end up volunteering to do it. I need a backbone, so I can actually tell this to people.

Consumption

This idea of consumption is one of my favorite things, I think because I am so terrible at it. I always consume too much of anything that is put in front of me, whether it's food, drink, or people. I eat until I feel sick, I drink until I throw up (not usually, this is for example only), and I adore everyone until they are not around anymore. Last night I went out for pizza for a friend's birthday and later we ate cake. I was hungry, so I ate a lot and when we ate cake, I wasn't hungry, but ate a large piece any ways. My body felt physically larger, though in reality my stomach was digesting the food. I hate that feeling, but I did it anyways. Why do I do that? Why do so many people do that? I stepped on the scale this morning expecting to have gained several pounds, but my weight was exactly the same as the morning before. Then I wondered, does it really matter what I eat? It must, there must be some correlation between what I eat and how much I weigh, but why is it that I can eat very little and not loose weight and eat a lot and not gain weight? I realize there is probably a scientific explanation for this, but as a person overtly aware of their consumption, as I think most people, especially females, are, it's difficult.

People: I'm starting to think that we make up attachments to other people and if I just stopped imagining any sort of attachment, I wouldn't have a problem besides spending lots of time by myself. But would I feel lonely if I didn't like spending time with people that much?

It all just kind of seems made-up.

Trains

When he was a baby, his mother momentarily let go of the handle of his carriage without applying the brakes and his pram rolled off of the train station platform and directly in front of the incoming passenger train. He was pushed forward for thirty meters before the train finally came to a stop. For the next two days he was an international news sensation and his mother did not stop crying out of guilt and relief over what had occurred for at least the next month.
Logically he should have suffered from all sorts of psychological issues because of the experience, like perhaps a large aversion to public transportation, but in fact he turned out to be exemplarily normal. In his early twenties he got a job as a personal banker for a large bank. He was moderately good at his job, even winning an award one year for being the most polite banker at the branch and an award for having the neatest pressed pants the next.
Therefore, everyone found it rather shocking when he had both of his legs cut off from trying to jump onto an empty car on a moving freight train, eventually dying from blood loss.
His mother resumed her crying for the next year, dressing only in black and started putting together an organization that educated the common citizen on the dangers of trains.

I think I like shopping because I get to make decisions even though the rest of the time I absolutely hate making decisions. Shopping is especially nice when not shopping with my own money. However, I do wish that buying things and making decisions as to what to buy didn't make me feel so satisfied. It is such a capitalist past time.

Why is it when I drink, I feel the need to talk to everyone? It always makes me feel all kinds of awful in the morning. You know, bad in not-hangover sort of way, even though I feel that too. I should ban myself from the phone or the computer and only talk to people for real.

I wish food would just enter my room.

I just want to hear what you have to say.

I don't care that we never talk or have never talked.

I don't care that we have talked, but don't really talk, like really really talk.

Just talk to me and I'll talk back at you and we can have a goddamn talking party or a dance party or a drunk party or any type of goddamn party that you would like or dislike.

I'm just sick of throwing myself so faraway and everyone else throwing themselves even further away.

I wish my sincerities were some kind of poetry. Then I realize they were some kind of poetry, just not worth publishing and then they become a candid sort of image-less admission.

Also, I feel like my gender and women studies minor is teaching me that nothing is real. My race is constructed, my sex is constructed, my culture is constructed. Sometimes I lie in bed and feel like nothing is real. Not my bed, not my pillows, not my cloud covered comforter that my giant golden retriever ripped a hole in, I wonder why people want to me to quantify my experiences with images, when obviously all those images have been constructed. I wonder if I am a real person. I write stories about boys who have relationships with girls who are not real people living in the real world. I have started writing about myself from the outside, because nothing around me is real enough to describe.

Things that came up tonight:
1. Drinking makes me feel better only if I'm with people that make me feel good, thus if I'm sitting in a movie not talking, I probably don't feel good.
2. I really want everyone to be reliable. It makes me upset when they are not reliable, partially because I hate being upset with people. I think you think I cry because you think I want more than friendship with you, but I cry, because I'm scared I can't have even that.
3. I like spending time with people I don't normally spend time with.
4. I appreciate a lot of people a lot and mostly I get upset when I feel like I'm losing the people I need.
5. This list seems like a list of cheesy and sincere things I never want to admit about people, but I am admitting, because I am drunk and crying.
6. Feminism was dicussed a lot tonight and I hate that I'm scared to admit I'm a feminist, because I date men and love men and a lot of my friends are men. I meant to write more about this, but it got over-shadowed.
7. Let's have an honest party. I'm incredibly self-conscious. Just tell me what you think of me and be done with it, so I don't have to worry anymore. I'm an ugly fuck with awful opinions? Just fucking tell me. It's the worrying about being otherwise that is the problem. I want to be otherwise, but who knows if I am?
8. Geeze, I hate being this honest.

I stopped reading before falling asleep. I've read before falling asleep my entire life until lately. Colin and my advisor both told me to read. I think they are right. In August I started reading "Nine Stories" by J.D. Salinger. I had to stop reading it though, because I read "A Perfect Day for Bananafish," which was a really marvelous story, but like many marvelous stories I couldn't deal with it.

Also, I am taking the Dylan Thomas class and going to Wales over springbreak. I love Dylan Thomas. I love the prospect of Wales. Mostly I love the concept of going somewhere different. I've needed that.

You return in a mass of hair.
I ask how you enjoyed your time as a mountain goat.
Have you lost some of your virility amongst those hills?
Nibbling on trees.

After it rains the hairy beast shrinks.
I swell with absorption.

I liked you better when you had to ability
to be human and naked.

I feel immensely dissatisfied with myself at the moment. I have the strange sensation that I have chosen to wear the wrong thing every single day for at least a couple weeks. I need to make a change. I don't know what.

I feel like that bug stuck to poster board, only I'm stuck to my bed.

I've noticed a pattern in my behavior lately. I have down days and up days and on the down days I am rendered helpless. I worry about my mental state and my life and it concerns me a great deal how others percieve me. On my up days I spend the whole time making up for what I didn't do on my down days. I'm productive, I talk to people. I do all the things I should've done last week. That's all. I have to go do the things I was supposed to do last week. German Club needs cookies.

Today at work I was making posters out of foam board and when I sprayed the glue, a bug came and landed on the board and got stuck. What if one day you stepped somewhere and could never move again?

It's strange to watch people grind on each other. I think it's not supposed to be watched and that's my problem. I'm supposed to be grinding too, but I don't. It's like watching sex, only everyone has clothes on and they are moving to music. I like to watch the eyes of the person in back. It's like watching sex.

I had a lovely afternoon of reading and sleeping in the library. I always forget how much I like the library until I go there again and then I start going there all the time.

What about a mountain?

Would a mountain be enough?
Mountains are bigger then men.
Most trees are bigger then men,
but not all.

In third grade we adopted trees.
Everyone wanted the one that was wilted
and dying.
What fun is there in having a tree
that is already flourishing?

Is the loss of someone bigger greater?
Mass times cigarettes smoked
times time spent together
times time not spent together
times the mountains and the trees
and times me.

I remember:
in the midwest there are no mountains.

Is a cornfield enough?

I went and now I'm back.

I wish there had been more people outside.

At the sametime, I'm glad there wasn't.

I really want to smoke (yes Carolyn, I'm sorry Carolyn, I have no will power), but I am scared of all the people outside. I don't even know that there are people outside. But I am scared of them nonetheless.

I stayed in with Caitlin tonight snd we watched Titanic and ate popcorn and drank and it was really lovely. Titanic is so much more sincere with you've been drinking. It's nice having a good time like that, it really is. A good time, with a person that you live you, but don't actually see that often.

Here's a lovely article about Perpich. If you don't know, that's the arts high school where I spent 11th and 12th grade.

Bed soon. Tomorrow will be better. Not that today was better. Tomorrow will just be better.

Roger Taylor (the Knox College President) has braille on all of his business cards. I have been awarded the lovely job of putting the business cards in the braille machine and slamming down the handle in order to make the little dots. My palms are bright red.

All the clocks say different times. I'm going to follow the one in the middle.

Lately I've been having the kind of dreams that are almost real and they are filled with people from Knox, so I get confused as to what is real and what's in the dream. I woke up in the wrong stage of the sleep cycle today and now everything feels heavy and tired. For a minute I tried to convince myself I was sick, but that doesn't work as well as it did in high school when I convinced myself and my parents that I was sick most days.

Oh no. I am out of wine.

I keep writing things and deleting them.

I'll summarize:
Glass of wine.
Going to SASS meeting later, because I miss being around people.
I feel like life is on the verge of being interesting again.
Negatively on my part is habitual. Just don't listen.

I do not like
the concept of adversity.
I would rather not do things
of my own freewill
than do things
because supposedly I cannot.

But the whole trouble
with adversity to begin with
is that it is thrust upon us
like moles or freckles
or men.

So cheers I must say
and throw back a glass of wine
and hopes a poem comes out,
unlike with a mole or freckle
where you hope nothing comes out
or with men
where all sorts mess can come leaking through.

I always feel funny after workshop and have nowhere to vent it. I usually then stay up late too late doing nothing, until I end up upset and crying for no reason. I'm really confused. I feel like I am in a transition period. There was the summer period and the end of summer period and the beginnign of school period, but now I am in a place that is really different from all those places. Several times every week I come to the conclusion that I am asleep and someday I am going to wake up and realize I haven't thought about anything for a long time, but if I think that several times a week, haven't I realized that I am just sleeping? I got into an argument about this with the counselor last spring. I said that I was emotionally flatlining and she said that I was just stable. But I'm never really happy. I'm not usually unhappy. I was unhappy today because my bike was stolen. I am unhappy late at night a lot, especially if I have spent a lot of time in my room, but that's normal, at least it's normal for me. I want emotional variance. When I have emotional variance, I will want this stability back, but that's how it is.

Today would've been so much better had my bike not gotten stolen. I wish I saw more people more often. I have talked to five people today. The two people I live with, the secretary of the public relations office, a campus safety officer, and a police officer. Things just sit in my head.

I wish Kaldi's were warmer. I think coffee shops should always be warmer than other places, even though you are drinking coffee and it's cold. the problem is that I sit for too long and let my coffee get cold and then I get cold and then I just want to go home and take a nap, but I have work to do and it's cold outside.

My bike got stolen. I loved riding my bike. I rode it everywhere this summer. I really think that people shouldn't steal transportation. I was locked to the bike rack. The lock is still there. I'm guessing they cut through it. I called campus safety and they said that a lot of times bikes get stolen and then they get dumped across town somewhere. The police are coming next. I hate it when people do things I don't like. I hate feeling this upset about something that someone has done to me. I would rather it be raining or something that I can't blame on a person.

I read the same books of poetry over and over again and listen to the same songs over and over again and every time they are completely different as if I had never read them at all and every time they are perfect, as if they knew what I needed and comformed to that. You know what I mean?

Here is a really lovely poem by Pable Neruda. I stumbled across it one day. It reminded me of a time when someone asked why I loved them and I couldn't figure out why so I made up a list of adjectives, none of which were true.

When I drink too much caffiene it makes everything feel warm in an unpleasant manner, even though my skin is cold. I miss a lot of people, but I feel like there is a reason we're not talking right now. I want to talk to a lot of people. I just want to talk.

I also think that all of my favorite people are also my least favorite people. In a good way.

Go to Writer's Forum. Today, Alumni Room. 4 PM. Laura's reading and I'm introducing her.

Also, go to Writer's Forum May 10th. I'm reading. No excuses.

The poet in me is wounded I think.

I am writing prose though. Prose about wounded poets.

My favorite people are really just the ones that tell the best lies.

I am strangely cheerful today.
I'm going to Des Moines tomorrow.
I'm triyng to finish both midterms that are due on Tuesday so that I can have fun all weekend.
For some reason the term seems almost over even though there is a month and a week left.
I am homesick and I like it, because before I was "somewhere other than home or here" sick and I am not one for taking adventures all by myself, though in a month I can start filling out an application to go to Austria.
I think things will be okay, I just don't know when.
Everyone in the G-Burg is in a relationship except for me and I don't really care, except I must a little because I had that realization, but only a little in that now I will have even fewer people to spend time with.
I went from having zero community service hours last week, to having seven and a half this week. Look at me help the community.
I like fall weather because I have cute boots, a cute jacket, cute scarves, and cute hats and all of that makes me feel cute and I like feeling cute, so you better not tell me I look otherwise.
I like to romanticize everything I do, even if what I am doing is drinking tea by myself. I turn off some of the lights so things seem more surreal.
I wish I could drink coffee and then I would drink endless cups, but it makes me crazy crazy.
When I am happy, I am always happy inspite of something.
Maybe that's why I couldn't be happy before. There was no one I was spiteful towards.
That's all.

I cry over nothing and then when something happens, I don't feel a thing. I get upset over the fact that I don't care, but not actually upset over the thing itself. This is what happens when people are unhappy.

I'm not sure what this means.

I wrote a post and accidently clicked to leave it.

Thank fucking god.

I almost told the truth. Wouldn't that be awful.

I went to the Humane Society today and walked dogs. I wish it wasn't so sad. Whenever anyone walks by their cages they jump up and down and bark as if that will get more people to take them out, but it's the opoosite. It's intimidating, being surrounded by a bunch of jumping, barking dogs. When you leave they still howl. It's awful because you can see their good habits deteriorating. It's all about getting attention because they don't get enough. My favorite dog really liked to play fetch. I didn't take him outside, he was already out on the other side of the fence. He had a ball and I told him if he just dropped the ball on my side of the fense I could throw it for him, not expecting that he would be able to do it, but he did and he kept doing it. Then I had to leave. I felt awful.

Later I was tabling and I got a lot of people to sign the petition I was tabling for, which is really excellent, but there were these two first years that struck me. One signed the petition and said "I can't believe I've been here a month already" as if he wanted to have a conversation, but I called out to other people to sign the petition and he realized a talk wasn't going to happen and left. Another first year just hung aorund my table and started informing people about the petition, except he didn't know what he was talking about so the things that he said were wrong. He made me uncomfortable, but I felt bad because he's obviously really lonely. That's not the first time he's done things like that. The one and only Knox football game I attended he tried to get into a conversation I was having with an alumni that I knew. He didn't realize she had graduated. He's trying so hard and failing.

I've been avoiding the cafeteria. I like to make food for myself. Lately I've liked being by myself. Maybe not liked. Maybe lately I've been by myself, but I would rather be that way than other ways. I think: I am not actually like this, but if I am like this now, isn't that how I am? Either way I will be different later. When I leave here, next term. I just want to be somewhere new and taken as I am now, not as I was, not as who I am friends with. You know those friends that look like each other? I've never had a friend like that. I want a friend who looks like me and we can do similar things together.

I just want to lie in bed and drink tea and listen to music.

I've had the window to post a blog open for hours. I wonder what I meant to say when I opened it.

Why is it always a question of planets with me?

I'm broke and my debit card is expired. This was bound to happen eventually.

I was mostly social this weekend. It was mostly fun. Nothing spectacular.

I want something spectacular.

I really do think people are good. I've always thought that. That's why it kills more more than anything when I lose faith in people, because I don't want to, because I don't think they are actually like that. I just want to love everyone and I want it to be easy, but it can't be.

I kept writing posts and then I decided to make a video as this is a novel thing.

I want to be doing well because other people are doing well.

Sometimes the thoughts in my head congeal into nonsensical words and phrases. You know, like emotion.