lilac post-its remind me of spring

So when it started snowing (heavily) again, I holed myself up in my room and vowed not to step outside in the miserable weather.
But I had to run an errand so I hauled my ass out of my sweats, put on my snowboots (I thought I had put those away for the season, but alas!) and went out.

It was actually really pretty and nice. Reminded me of Alaska a bit.

..and then the wind started to pick up and it quickly turned into a love/hate (emphasis on hate) relationship again.


Anyway, this was just another procrastination post. I have to get back to reading five long essays and writing summaries for them (curse you, Writing The Essay)

Also, I am debating whether or not to make this blog "public"--i.e. putting up a link on the profile. I'm leaning towards no.

And one more thing: I feel like I am drifting away from people, and that makes me sad. Or rather, I don't know if I'm drifting away or being pushed away. Oh well. I'll probably just be at the Strand more often now, never feel alone there. Or at the Met. The Strand & The Met = best places to go to get mind off of things. Central Park is nice too but that's just a whole lot of walking and thinking and that gets annoying after a while. Although once spring is here, I'm excited to have picnics in the park again!

...and I'm done procrastinating.

everything is illuminated

Time heals all wounds. But what if time is the wound? - Jonathan Foer

I tend to slack off with blogs, journals, etc. after a while. I think it's because part of me is afraid of consistency. It's strange because I definitely like some things being consistent in my life, but just not journals. I think it's amazing when people keep track of everything every day, every other day, or whenever. I just can't, and god knows I've tried. It'd be funny if I wrote in this consistently though, no? Me at age 64 or whatever, typing away on Blogger.
"Went to supermarket today, and my oh my, it must be strawberry season because they sure looked very ripe and smelled wonderful"
Hah. Something about that is comical but really scary.

Anyway, came home for the day/night. No one is in the house now so it was kind of odd coming home to...nothing. But so exhilarating because it was just me and the piano and I never get that. Someone is usually always here. So I sat and started sight-reading some old Mozart pieces that I used to play--god they're so beautiful, it really made me miss classical music, playing/hearing/experiencing.

Then started running my own songs: Engraving, Cashmere....started playing Pisces and somewhere in the first verse, maybe even the first or second line, I choked up. I don't know what it was exactly but I cried my way through that entire piece. Something about the way the winter sunlight was on the piano that made me think of people, family, friends, lost friends, just loss in general. And I cried.
Part of it probably has to do with the fact that it was so intimate, just me and the piano and the silence (and also the piano sounds amazing in my living room, I've missed the rich sound so much). Usually, I'm in the piano room in the basement on the shitty piano that has a broken pedal, with people nearby in the laundry room or in the dance studio...or I'm borrowing Eileen's keyboard and I'm playing in the room but that's a keyboard and everyone can probably hear me so I'm always self-conscious. Sure, when Elena's in the room I can still work and play which is pretty amazing since I don't like "working" around people but Elena's great. (We harmonize, and she knows my lyrics better than I do). And yeah, I'm pumped to play when people are around but there's no intimacy with myself. Whenever people are in the room I automatically shift to perfoming mode. And here....noone, nothing.

Truth be told, it was kind of refreshing, I haven't cried in a long time. I actually don't think I've ever cried in the dorms. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing....probably bad, because it means something about it is hindering me from really being myself. I don't cry a lot, but I need a good one now and then.

I'm going back to le piano but I'll leave you with the lyrics to no.16. Regardless of whether or not I write more songs, this would be the last piece on the proverbial "album":
Benediction
No words, but a wave goodbye
Easier done than said
Save repercussions
for future references

Unreal city,
keeping you hidden
from my fears

On this lonely Sunday

(I think I was channeling Sarah on this piece: it's very "Last Dance" in that it's short and sweet, and is the last song...and also, I didn't know she had a song "Gloomy Sunday" but indeed she does.)

running in heels

...is like running with scissors, especially when you're on a subway platform and intoxicated.

But all went well @ subway party last night.
There were more NYU kids this time, which was thuuper. And oh--I really really had to pee while we were still waiting for the N train...aaaaand so I did. Enough said. But my friend Ruby and I had to sprint back to the group because the train was there...

I felt so sketch and dirty but I had to do it.

Anyway, there were more normal people on the train when we got on this time (last time we had the cars to ourselves) and so that provided some awkwardness but everyone was too out of it to notice. People had brought guitars and drums and somehow, a group singalong started up. We sang everything from Wonderwall to Sweet Home Alabama to....the Alphabet. The best part was when Stan called me in the middle of this all:
"Are you on the N train"
"Yeah, are you???"
"I was just on it."
Stan was on the party traaaaain!!!! Albeit unintentionally, but that don't matta!

So then we got off somewhere in Queens and headed back and all was well in the world.

Today I wake up with raging headache and voice has dropped to man-level. Think will go sit in Le Pain Q or Dean & Deluca and try to rewrite this essay for WTE (hip hip hooray.......................................)

sigh. but first, food.

your looks are becoming a problem

This post is just meant to distract myself from doing anything productive with my life...that is what a blog is for, no? Let's see:

blog + michael jackson's "thriller" & "rock with you" + knowing there's so much work I could be doing = me boogeying to mj while typing away about absolutely nothing.

(I should be a math major)


BUT!
I would like to say something maybe worth your time:
Maybe writing my own lyrics has something to do with this, but please slap me if I start posting up enormous chunks of lyrics that are meant to reflect some sappy lovesick sentiments of mine. I'm so turned off when I read someone's blog or away message and it's just full of "I'm addicted to you...I don't know how to be me...around you...when you're there...I'm lighter than air...I play with my hair...Do I dare?" (I started making shit up after the first phrase or two, if you couldn't tell)
Anyway. Yeah........


"...I WANNA ROCK WITH YOUUUU..."
No need to slap me, that wasn't a nuanced lament about my love life (or lack thereof); it was simply a regurgitation of an extremely infectuous line from a classic mj song. It doesn't mean I want to rock with you. Well, maybe....*wink

peace.

here comes your 19th nervous breakdown

For some reason, I can work really efficiently with the stones blasting in the room.

And...this is also my third post in one day (although the first one was really last night), and that means I really need to:
a.) stop posting
b.) start working

It's so logical! Marvelous.

snap crackle pop

So Jeff had some awesome timing last night when he suggested going to a bar because I wasn't getting any work done anyway. (See also: last night's procrastination post)
But ending up at Peculiar's was a kind of disappointing ending to our bar hunt. Okay sorry that was a little too cryptic for 11 am.

Slept through my 8 am lecture. Sexy.

so about this olaudah equiano...

I realize he was a slave. I realize he wrote an "Interesting Narrative" about his life as a slave.

What I don't want to realize is the fact that I have to speed-read his entire life story and incorporate it into a paper due very very soon.

This Perrier lemon water is nice, but it isn't doing the job that Red Bull can do. What am I even talking about, I hate Red Bull--come on, it tastes like fucking Robitussin/Dimetapp/whatever kind of cough syrup you had to endure as a child. I did have a medium Oren's coffee in the evening (Oren's is the bomb diggity, by the way) and that got me too caffeinated and I had to be knocked out by force with a pillow. Whacked several times, and I collapsed laughing--it only made me crazier.

Oh--oh, and guess who has an 8 am tomorrow? Bright and early? YES!