More School Stuff You Can Skip Over

I finished my big paper, and I’ll get started on the last one today. Tonight.

Then I need to prepare a powerpoint presentation on the Tom Stoppard paper I turned in today.

But I want to take a nap. And watch Chuck and Lost.

11 more days. Then I go to New York in 20 days.

I was talking with someone yesterday. I told her a certain class really validated me. She said some things about playing to our strengths and telling ourselves we’re good at what we do. And believe our friends when they tell us positive things.

That came after the part when I told her how insecure I get sometimes. She reassured me though.

We walked out of the classroom, out of the building. We talked about an author we both like. We talked about the different people who use the transit system. We approached the bus stop.

She asked about my plans to write, if I actually wanted to write. We talked about other classes I could take. She told me I should definitely work toward publishing.

She said other stuff, too.

The Monster Reemerges, The Leprechaun Chants

Amusingly unlucky charms – she’s passively aggressive.

She won’t tell you what’s wrong, but she’ll let you know something’s up, whether it be by slamming doors or the cold shoulder or the snide, sarcastic remark.

The monster has a delayed sting; most of the time you won’t realize she has drawn blood until you’re about to faint from weakness. The cuts are even and clean. They’ll heal just fine and in time for her to slash again.

Passive-Aggressive attended seminary this morning. It wasn’t good.

Another creature appears, though, this one of Detachment. She pushes Passive-Aggressive away, at least momentarily. She stays distant and quiet, and she occasionally lets the True Personality through. Sometimes if the True personality is present, she’ll laugh or interact or converse fluently.

Detachment tries to process confusion and fear, she tries to transform negative energy into something useful, but somehow it’s self-defeating.

Both are pests, annoying, unwelcome; both are party poopers; both are fighting for facetime while I wait it out.

I can’t afford to wait it out.

I just wish I could deal with things better.

What I’m Listening To, and Why

One my seminary students mentioned reading my blog and wondered about all the boy talk and whether I’m worried these boys will ever read all this stuff. I said I wasn’t worried. I also said I do draw a line and that there are things I won’t write about.

This is one of my favorite Fleet Foxes songs. The lyrics are simple and dark, and this video is quite creative. It’s about blood and snow and wolves. … Or is it? I love the folky sound it starts off with, and then the drums kick in around the same time the mountain man starts cranking the seasons to pass more quickly. You know how much I want to usher winter on out of here.

 

Vodpod videos no longer available.

more about “Fleet Foxes – White Winter Hymnal“, posted with vodpod

 

One day last week before seminary class, we discussed what swear words are in different countries. A certain adjective in Britain is essentially the mother bomber, and if you don’t want to get in trouble, according to one of my students, you have to say “bleeding.” And that made the class laugh.

I have no idea why we had that discussion. It’s probably the same reason we have all the marginally questionable conversations we have. They’re not all my fault, I promise.

Yesterday, I sent this link to a few my friends in light of the recent Ingrid Michaelson concert. It’s a good song, and I like the sparseness of the performance, even with the full band. (Sorry, the video wouldn’t embed.)

Swearing on this site is pretty rare, and today, I kind of became a sailor under my breath.

And today, little did I know that song would become my mantra.

And today, I have to acknowledge one of those things I won’t write about on this blog. It’s frustrating and a little scary, I guess. If I won’t write about it, it’s not for the public to know.

I’m trying to wrap my brain around it.

Winter can go away, but maybe time could pass a little more slowly. Maybe that would work.

No matter what happens.

All we can do is keep breathing.

At least it’s something, breathing.

Hell.