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lilgirll
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Name: Catherine
Interests: metaphors / not living in reality/ hands - especially cellists / ballads / paht bing soo / moments of breathlessness.
Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
7/30/2003
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| moving because times are a changin'
and for lighter fare http://wingedki.blogspot.com
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| we are sleepers. i recognize it.
and i don't want to be woken.
Not yet.
it will hurt too much.
-j.w
Once I pay off my taxes I will buy a camera. Like proving I'm here. i'm here.
I don't have much to say... so offering some links below, because they are beautiful in their own way and I think life-improving and necessary (hard to find now, I've been reading celeb gossip again - active life deprovement. like my brain has holes in it.)
A feature in Esquire about the story of the falling man, the famous photograph from 9/11, which when I first saw it, really disturbed me, but the story itself is beautiful. here.
I saw these series of portraits in the guardian. People who were terminally ill, close-up black and white portraits, one in life and then another in death. The idea is that in facing death, there is comfort to be found... maybe? hopefully. here.
And finally, this is from Susannah Breslin who has the reversecowgirl blog, like short fiction piece. It's a really good piece of writing, she makes sex sound like poetry. so must be shared. here.
I sent this to a friend and she said it described exactly how she would feel about meeting God. so to each their own, it really is universal. haha.
I just realized these are all rather morbid and emo blah. great. so a rush of happy things. honey tea, strawberries, jim sturgess's grin, pomegranate seeds, kite strings, wine, parasols. ah... and now i sound like julie andrews in the sound of music.
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| I was walking from the library tonight, when I saw stars. Like in the sky. constellations. I think it was the first time I've seen them since I've been in New York. Or at least I don't think there was any other time, which would make this very anticlimatic... But anyway, I just kept staring upwards, walking towards Orion. It was like magic, until I walked into the street and was almost run over by a taxi. But I took it as a good omen, and for the rest of the night, I've felt like someone's holding me. Blessed.
So, new year has passed and it's already February. Mid-February. Some things have changed: I cook now, I run regularly (attempt to) and go to class (mostly always), my drinking tolerance challenges that of a toddler, and heath ledger is gone. Some things haven't: I have yet to learn powerpoint / excel, I'm still always late to class, I can't play guitar, etc etc.
Maybe it's just a failure of my brain capacity, but I can't imagine my life after May. It's basically a huge blank - nothingness. And while it seems kind of exciting, like a "page to be written on", mostly it just seems like a black hole of "what could be" that's swallowing everything in possibility.
My hair.. on a 3 am high of sugar and boredom, Janet cut my bangs. I'm still unsure, at best (worst?) I look like the scary chain girl from Kill Bill or emily strange, at worst (best?) I look like a mushroom with a bowl cut or a young fob.
I ended up not taking the lsats after surviving a winter break of studying and the nightmares of living alone in our apartment. Toward the end I felt like the crazy Rochester's wife in Jane Eyre, stuck upstairs, too scared to check out downstairs - what if someone had snuck in while I was out and was waiting downstairs to skin me, or what if someone was living downstairs, was that breathing? were the pipes moving?.. what if what if, it was enough to wander around with a knife and torch the place.
Anyway, the lsat- what I thought would be a test that I would befriend and then conquer in a sweet respectable way, like gentlemen please. Instead turned out to be a stubborn wrestling thing that refused friendship. It all came down to a moment two weeks before the test, when going to Bobst would just mean passing out on a desk for a few hours. I tried switching venues, cafes, starbucks, and finally the graduate business building, only to pass out in the chairs shaped like hands. (Not being poetic, the chairs are shaped like palms, it's intriguing).
I guess it's called burning out. I was told that I should consider the lsat a marathon, and be like the Kenyan runners who train by running barefoot on gravel... and the "last mile is the fastest!" I understood the moral and nodded after hearing it, but then went to pass out. Lsat we shall meet again, and next time I will not be as kind.
I'm taking way too many credits this semester, while all the better planners of college careers are part-time. And although my classes are pretty well spaced out and I live about 5 minutes of speedwalking away, I'm still late to the majority of them. In science fiction, the professor asked us to discuss the benefits / implications of teleporting. "then I would never be late to class" I said when it was my turn, "ha ha?" And he stared at me blankly with a slight look of pity, and I felt more of a misfit than ever, a status only emphasized by my later suggestion of Jumper as a movie to watch. (Jamie Bell, Hayden Christenson, what's not to like?) His slight look of pity turned to one of disgust. We read a lot of bad fiction in that class - or in my opinion it is very ridiculous. But I feel happy knowing that I'm surrounded by people who know much more details of lord of the rings than I ever could.
Anyway this blessed-feeling... I want it to stay, not wear off. I read almost all the tributes to Heath Ledger, at least the non-trash ones, and there was a line in an nymag article about his life / last days, "The only thing for sure is he was doing it alone."
May that not be true for you. Here's to seeing Orion and being held.
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| Christmas Eve, back home.
Break is the luxury of eating a meal every hour, going to the park to swing on the swings until the kids and parents stare so I finally get off, imagining about the potential deals going on next door with my mafia lookalike neighbor, or sometimes such productive things as spending a few hours changing ringtones
on my phone, so everyone is now a different version of some korean ballad.
Which I guess is kind of annoying, because when my phone rings it comes
on mid-scream.
I still don't drive, so my trips to the outside world are limited to my mother's church, its one of the very traditional places, with the sanctified table linen and acolytes. I think I've spent the majority of the past weekend there, playing violin. I remember I used to hate it, suburbia where velvet headbands and tasseled bejeweled sweaters are chic, and a permanent reminder of apple juice and vanilla wafers.. but somehow I realized, it's become familiar, a beautiful place... yesyes.
Since high school my mother's always
volunteered me to play violin there, I guess it was my one way of making up for
what I never became. But also a bit like magic, cause when I play, for
her I'm 8 years old again, a girl in patent mary janes and a 1/2 size
violin with good form and excellent precision. And for everyone else, my pretending to be good makes up for the bad form and lack of precision.
I played through the christmas pageant today extra happily... I even felt emotional seeing the little kids holding their candles. (What's happened to me?) I would say it was the spirit that somehow moved me, but I think it was sneaking wine in the kitchen beforehand with the guitar group, a group of really happy guys... I would hope to be that happy in like 20 years. They shotted it, I half-did and thought i was being wise pouring the rest out, but even so... in my weak tolerance state, everything was blurred. The angel halos were a lot shinier, the costumes were sparklier, overall.. it was the best pageant I've seen.
I think this is the closest to a Tiny Tim moment I'll come to, but it'll have to do. here's to finding happiness =]
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| Sitting at Bobst, right now I am defined by sparknotes and stacks of books. I'm trying not to feel completely overwhelmed and wondering why I'm majoring in something I'm not good at ... and wondering why I am still wondering about this senior year. It's too late to walk back now without seeing potential killers behind every building corner, and with my coat I have no peripheral vision so yes... it's just this Bobst desk and me. and the remainders of the best sandwich I've ever had (It was really amazing - it was
from space market and called the "law sandwich" - superstitious so I
forced myself to get it, and it was amazing. Good signs, a complete
omen, a good law school essay maybe why law school, well there was this sandwich...)
November left... it's already mid-December. And the only realization I've had has come from revisiting korean dramas. I realized that maybe they're not the most realistic things, and maybe I can admit, maybe almost impossible. clapclap profound. It makes me sad to say, especially because it's an ideal I've held in my head since adolescence - but yes. I've finally recognized that whoever writes these things, I don't know who they are and what world they're living in but honestly. rawr. Coffee prince shop or something was what destroyed my fantasy.
The story is cute, in a strange way. The girl looks like a boy, passes herself off as a boy, real boy falls in love with her/him, and wonders if he may be gay, struggles with this and then finally decides it doesn't matter he loves him / her, he'll give up everything. And then when he finds out that she's a she - he's upset. And I readily accepted all of that story, somehow. But it was in the final episodes listening to the dialogue that I just couldn't listen anymore. It's not a spoiler either, because this is true for every drama that if the characters don't die, they have to be separated for 2 - 3 years. (casually represented with a caption of "X years later", and the character hops on screen with a shorter haircut, or darker clothes or glasses). Anyway, I listened to these characters who've just realized their love, appropriate genders, and then talk about being separated for a few years. As though postcards would do anything. postcards! I know it's just a drama, and maybe I'm just jaded, who says love can't be held together by postcards, but I don't know, I felt like someone just threw stones at my hope balloon, or had told me the real ending of cinderella was the shoe fitting the stepsister who cut off her toes..
I hope I don't fail my exam. I can feel the knowledge pouring out of me already.
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