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North Carolina [19 Mar 2002|09:44pm] [ mood | weird ] [ music | more music from Gladiator ] Well, here we are in North Carolina! As for yesterday, we have little to say-- things went dreadfully, to say the least, and as a result, i had a complete change in the contents of my suitcase. *sigh* Well, our attitude now is to drink heartily to broken hearts (and broken skin). Let it be, let it go, we are now going ot be favored, like a pet canary for the song. We are now needed, now valuable-- something like a plaid-skirted stock ticker and a smiling dollar bill. The Girl. Today we flew into North Carolina on a tiny, regional jet-- quaint, really. i critiqued Matt's novel the whole 2-hour trip, and the 3-hour drive to Charlotte from Raleigh-Durham... then 2 more hours at the hotel.m i hope he doesn't kill me! But i put a lot of thought and effort into it, and i truly do care... The last thing i want is to be pushy and make it un-Mattlike... (honest, yo!) Arriving at the Charlotte convention center, we were dragged into service (oh, okay, i offered). Why is it that helping my dad inevitably involves squishing myself into a corner and having aluminum rods fall on top of me? But we got the booth constructed (it;s such a neat design, the way these things are done) and i snooped around, looking at all the empty vendor's booths. (we passed SO MANY gummie novelties and bubble gum racks....i cannot wait! cannot@^%#$^!!) We also saw a new power drink called "Piranha", and new Gatorade and Snapple drinks....and did i mention GUMMY DINOSAURS and BUBBLE TAPE and COTTON CANDY SUCKERS? oh, yes, angela, you did, kinda. Some people had neat shiny prototype machinery-things. Yay for shiny things! It was so eerie, seeing all the steel and glass and machinery dead, as people gradually departed from setting things up. Looking out over it all invoked my construction-site obsession-- it was the same strange, cliff-hanging ghost-town feeling one might get while walking through a theater the night before the opening, or through a carnival with everything deserted and dark. i hope we do well tomorrow. i think i'll have some fun, but i am afraid of what might erupt at home if i don't do (sufficiently) what i was brought here to do. Smile, Girl. Smile. 1 comment|post comment

trying... [17 Mar 2002|05:32pm] [ mood | pensive ] [ music | Darrin Drda - Mary, Alice, Lucy, and Me ] Well... it’s been awhile since i’ve had the energy to write anything with a purpose. The foreboding thoughts i had were hardly appropriate to write in this journal with a clear-cut guideline of what is worthy and what is not; the negative is with us always—these writings ought to remind us of what is beautiful in the world. One would think that a girl like myself, interested in bleakness and minimalism, ought to enjoy returning to this place where only the sky exists to comfort us, only the solitary stars and a scrap of moon-crescent slung low in the sky, the flare of the evening sunset burning the excessive suburban sprawl...adding the peculiar glint to our eyes, the far-off dreamy gaze into the horizon’s flatlining...dreaming of what it would feel like to be the branch of a tree, keenly slicing the sky into pieces with edges... edges... hm... Things are not good here. Not good at all. Worse than i had hoped for, even. But i must remember a few things; namely, that an environment always has something to glean from it, that there is always something to learn from a person, that as Archilochus so eloquently put it: allà theoì gar aneikéstoisi kakoîsin Ô phíl’ epì kratereìn tleimosúnein éthesan phármakon. (Archilochus 13W) (But the gods have set in place, O friend, stout-hearted endurance as a remedy for irreversible ills.) Is this sadness irreversible? At some point, the marks will disappear and i will be on my own; all the things that seem so close and vivid now will fade to pastel memories. But as much as i’d like not to admit it, i have been changed and altered and splintered by people. Unfortunately, also, we do not have the ability to forget; memories bury themselves in my consciousness, flashing vivid lights and colors. i cannot even sleep without receiving transmissions from the past, even from the future *blush* (how many times i have dreamed something...and had it happen... i cannot say). Every now and then, i wish for things. i think of things i wish i could do, could have done. Someday, i will take a road trip, just drive out, no real destination, passing through golden cities, just passing through like the wind breezes past the earth. Singing softly, i want to stop the car in the middle of the night, turn off the headlights, and meander through some field, singing to the stars, permitting the light to pierce my thoughts. In that musical silence, i would close my mouth and just listen to the sounds in that harmonious gaping hole. i want to be anti-solid, unhuman, just light and energy and the shimmer on the surface of a lake, all flash and no substance... i want to explode, a supernova scattering itself in a death-to-life annihilation, providing the essential nebulous material for new things... i want to donate myself to whoever needs the matter... there is so little here that i can even understand, let alone use... perhaps someone else would know better what to do with such a broken girl. post comment

by the grace of God... [15 Mar 2002|05:28pm] As for Thursday... A few things happened. Namely, i nearly missed my history final due to a mistake on my part. Luckily, the professor somehow noticed i wasn’t there (out of 80 students??) and spoke with my advisor, who called my sorry self. So instead of missing it completely, i finished the two-hour exam in an hour and fifteen minutes. i am eternally grateful for my teacher’s thoughtfulness, as well as for the God-given courage which made me meet with this man a week ago. If it weren’t for that meeting, he never would have even known i existed, i’m sure. *smile* i also now have a justification for my procrastination all year. As i haven’t really started any papers (with the exception of my final Greek Elegy papers) earlier than three hours before their deadlines... i like to think that through practice, i was sufficiently prepared to write essays in a short amount of time. Thus, all of my “putting-things-off-for-excitement-purposes” prepared me for an emergency exam. Or something. i also saw Michael Moore speak last evening with Don. Due to (guess what?) luck, we were able to get in without tickets, and it turned out to be a very thought-provoking experience. i think i have some research to do, now, but yes, we enjoyed it very much. In other news, i’m glad that some previous uncertainties and fears were put to rest yesterday. Oh, there’s nothing like warm, dream-cluttered sleep... good dreams this time...a respite from our thoughts... i'm glad my anxiety has been laid to rest by reconciliation, at least for awhile... post comment

me luce clarissime deleto [13 Mar 2002|06:48pm] [ mood | drained ] [ music | Blue Man Group - Mandelgroove ] (i annihilate myself with the clearest light) Well, it's finals week, and what a week it's been. We have been missing the peaceful snow-covered weekend past... the heartfelt conversations at 3:00am, ambien-infused explanation of Markov chains, the lovely feeling of waking up and seeing people i love all together and all serene... However, aware that this week means a great deal in terms of grades, i have attempted to apply myself as much as possible. So far i have succeeded in studying for every final, and with the exception of my paper for Classics of Social and Political Thought (which, how you say, ROCKED HARDCORE), each test i've taken so far has gone... okay. Not great, not bad, but okay. *sigh* Not up to our standards. Although, my Greek exam will probably turn out well-- i think i made the same number of mistakes as the midterm, and did pretty well on that. Plus, the other half of the midterm-- two short essays (topics given yesterday, due on Friday) is a sure A. *shrug* This is boring. Last night i... *gasp* watched a television program. This is such a phenomenon to me-- people getting together to watch TV. i mean, it was enjoyable, just strange to us! We watched the pilot for a new show called "Jeremiah", about a plague that strikes the world, killing off everyone above the age of puberty during a span of six months. Suffice it to say that the show has definite obstacles to overcome (namely, scripting and acting), but if things can get better, it could really be good. After the two-hour viewing, there were so many ideas floating around... i mean, it's a really compelling "what-if" question... and ties in so nicely with the Rousseau that i just finished reading. What else? Oh, i have to go home soon. It is a good thing i filled the demerol prescription. *shiver* i haven't been dragged to my house all quarter and ...i guess i'm pretty afraid to see my parents... Man, i know there were other things i had to say, but half of them are really depressing and kind of whiny. i'm afraid of GWB and his nuke fetish. i'm afraid of what our government is doing and has become. i'm afraid of people who think that a woman "medicated with a cocktail of antipsychotic drugs during the trial" (CNN citation) is perfectly sane. Here's to having faith... post comment

i'm sure everyone cares... [11 Mar 2002|07:24am] [ mood | nervous ] [ music | Beethoven - 9th Symphony (4th movement) ] *rolls eyes at her pathetic self* Well, home safely from Minnesota, all secrets safely secured, and a sundry of sparkling speculations simmering softly. i have a final at 8:00 this morning (Latin)... Actually, i really just wanted to say that i love Beethoven's 9th symphony. i remember performing it last year... it nearly brought tears to my eyes... Oh, and today is ghetto-angela-day. or, angela-needs-to-do-laundry-and-get-enough-courage-to-go-to-the-dry-cleaners-day. *embarrassed smile* tanktop and cargopants ... very not-me! Aren't you all just so sad that i don't have Andy's camera set up as a webcam? (yet?) Much love to all my return-ed friends. *smiles* i haven't slipped into post-trip depression/anxiety/craziness yet, i see. post comment

*blinks sleepily* [09 Mar 2002|04:38pm] [ mood | happy ] [ music | The Innocence Mission - Notebook ] Day three in Minnesota... This is truly one of themost beautiful and inspirational places i have ever been. As i have finals next week (8:00am on Monday, to be precise, and one each day after that through Thursday...plus papers...*sigh*), i'm curled up on Andy's couch studying Latin (and oh, how i hate actually studying, as it usually involves writing things over and over with no real point...). There is a large picture window framing the "backyard" -- a gray-white sketch of birches feathering out into fragmented solitude... the sky is so blue, and pale sunshine glints off the the jeweled birch branches; it's like a painting, a landscape with hidden meaning in every freeflung gap... so many spaces, and somehow, i am fulfilled... i have always dreamed of living in one of two places-- a city, golden and hovering, bursting with life and mystery and people to watch, or nothing at all... the blank empty spaces between civilizations, removal... i am constantly torn between these two extremes, between wanting to hide within millions of people, creating whitespace with each footstep; i wanted a living nothingness. At the same time, i know how here, in the raw emptiness of the non-city, the weight of each step is incredible, a breath is something of a hurricane, and one feels very much too-much, too-vivid, too-sharp to even be alive. Everything i know is a paradox. Every time i make a statement, it's either all or nothing and usually both. i want to be an artist; i can't conceive of insulting the landscape by painting it. i want to create; i purposely destroy myself in hopes of being stronger. i want to sing music into the silence, but at the same time, i hear music within the silence too perfect to be sung or touched into existence. Ah, we are one confused individual. This place is incredible. And within the place itself, there are people who never fail to touch my heart in a way i never thought one of this unfortunate race ever could. *small smile* i am amazed at the generosity of some i know. It feels like i've been here forever, but i know that eventually i will have to leave, and it saddens me. There are such connections, glittering threads, holding things together here. It is funny how, once tangled in an order greater than i can ever hope to understand, we are reminded and elucified and put askance... so many things are so hazily clear. post comment

!!! [09 Mar 2002|12:42am] [ mood | ecstatic ] [ music | Fight Club soundtrack ] ICE STORM!!!!!!!!! YESYESYES thunder lightning snow ice wind YES most surreal portion of the evening: sitting in the middle of a restaurant. one bank of windows showing the sleeting ice DOWNPOUR; the other, serene Minneapolis. for a full HOUR, one side had weather, and one...didn't. post comment

oh yes [08 Mar 2002|02:08pm] [ mood | loved ] [ music | Gomez - Blue Moon Rising ] So i am so in Minnesota. huzzah. This will be a long entry, because i am LOQUACIOUS and HYPER and oh-so-happy to see such wonderful people! So, Wednesday i got to the airport 45 minutes before plane-take-off! (yay rush hour and heartfelt goodbyes!) But it turned out to be okay, and i got on my lovely plane and the pilot let me see inside the cockpit and i deplaned.... and then i saw Andy and Matt and Marty and *sigh* i am so blessed to have such friends! And Matt is braving (currently) the brash Minnesota coldness but there is snow snow snow snow! i have no words for my happiness, just wide-eyed awe and love..... We had dinner with Lynn and then i saw the big puppy Lexi! Oh, i am so happy! Matt beat me in a four-player scrabble game-- we took a picture of the board framed by three whisky glasses (no, not this lowly 18-year-old).... and then, then, then some of us went to bed and some of took ambien and then went to bed and it was all so charming. Last night was equally serene and comforting... it's just like a real home... While on the plane, i was thinking about how beautiful aerial photography is... we were landing at MSP and as the plane swung low under the misty clouds, the lights below just opened up into a maze of glittering connections, a matrix of sparkling light centered at the Twin Cities, originating out of a nebulous connection and spiraling out in a glorious galactical vision. Yes, it was like some immense mecca of wonder, and yet, as we swung lower to land, the solitary streetlight caught my eye, the humble pool of gold spilling out onto a deserted street. As we were driving in the car, the pristine, unfootprinted snow, the bleak horizon of the starshining terrain..... Yes, it was all mystery, all mystical, the simpicity of nature within the glow of the machinery... i have some kind of strange perverse wonder about deserted construction sites... something about the bleak time-stopping character of the moonlit arch of the crane, the bundles of wood and piping, the materials with which man plays at creation, all backlit in an eerie otherworldly glow. i think that if i were a photographer, i would need to photograph these things-- these everyday banal mundanities, things no one would think of finding anything in... Like the corners of buildings, jutting out three-space into nothing, the inverse on the inside-- three planes converging to an infinite point... i find my beauty whilst caged in by steel, between the cracks in the sidewalks, in the misty celestial motion of people, always moving, always awake, always alive... We are such a simple girl...so subordinate to all of this, and still drawn to it.... so in love with edges and flatness and the shattered fractal of the sky... This world is such a broken constellation, a spinning vortex of people and ideas and shapes, a kaleidoscope of color and sound and sometimes it is as if i cannot breathe for the fear of being overwhelmed ... And i am so overwhelmed and intimidated by some of the things, and even people that i find ...frightened and enthralled, a moth and a candle and a strange sense of awe. Undoubtedly, the people who have allowed me to follow their lives, they are incredible-- not at all perfect, but they are grand-- like the cloud-speckled sky, the splintered rays of sunlight piercing the blue, all of the magic shining through the holes. All the best people i know are broken, shattered, cracked and not at all new merchandise...rather, i think of them as beautiful kaleidoscopes, a beautiful chaotic shattering. Normal glass isn't interesting; i look through it to see behind; but gazing at my friends, i admire the beauty in them alone, the sharpness of raw jagged edges and passion. So much more interesting, intense, frightening and unreal. Yes, we are nervous; yes, we are crazy to the world, but we our multiple point of view enables us to see and experience so much... Self improvement is masturbation...now, self-destruction... ah, that's more my philosophy, but i agree that improving oneself seems strange-- i prefer to think of it as refinement, a distilling to essentials, a firm committment to discipline and giving with the wind, standing firm in the storm. Once we realize our weakness, then we can be strong, standing on faith and rationality... i sound awfully crazy. But that's okay. *sighs happily* because i am home. 2 comments|post comment

futile. [03 Mar 2002|07:52pm] [ mood | indescribable ] [ music | unreal songs...which possess me wholly... ] how is it that snow and music can affect me so much...? trembling, shaking, and the music, the pictures in my head... *covers ears with her hands, sings fervently, sings away the demons* Although i'm sure that the two people who could stand to read these lyrics don't read this, here we go: What If Words & Music by Emilie Autumn (www.emilieautumn.com) Here you sit on your high-backed chair Wonder how the view is from there I wouldn't know 'cause I like to sit Upon the floor, yeah upon the floor If you like we could play a game Let's pretend that we are the same But you will have to look much closer Than you do, closer than you do And I'm far too tired to stay here anymore And I don't care what you think anyway 'Cause I think you were wrong about me Yeah what if you were, what if you were And what if I'm a snowstorm burning What if I'm a world unturning What if I'm an ocean, far too shallow, much too deep What if I'm the kindest demon Something you may not believe in What if I'm a siren singing gentlemen to sleep I know you've got it figured out Tell me what I am all about And I just might learn a thing or two Hundred about you, maybe about you I'm the end of your telescope I don't change just to suit your vision 'Cause I am bound by a fraying rope Around my hands, tied around my hands And you close your eyes when I say I'm breaking free And put your hands over both your ears Because you cannot stand to believe I'm not The perfect girl you thought Well what have I got to lose And what if I'm a weeping willow Laughing tears upon my pillow What if I'm a socialite who wants to be alone What if I'm a toothless leopard What if I'm a sheepless shepherd What if I'm an angel without wings to take me home You don't know me Never will, never will I'm outside your picture frame And the glass is breaking now You can't see me Never will, never will If you're never gonna see What if I'm a crowded desert Too much pain with little pleasure What if I'm the nicest place you never want to go What if I don't know who I am Will that keep us both from trying To find out and when you have Be sure to let me know What if I'm a snowstorm burning What if I'm a world unturning What if I'm an ocean, far too shallow, much too deep What if I'm the kindest demon Something you may not believe in What if I'm a siren singing gentlemen to sleep Sleep... Sleep... 2 comments|post comment

ack! [03 Mar 2002|11:48am] [ mood | sleepy ] [ music | George Winston - Variations on the Kanon by Pachelbel ] !! They are not kidding about this stuff causing drowsiness! !! We just slept twelve hours... ah, i suppose i needed it...but how scary! i had the best dreams...about an origami master and beautiful fish and shrimp which talked to me about art and how good they were at swimming... they offered to teach me how to have pretty fins and a simple light stroke, so nice! *giggle* i love my fish dreams. We seem to get along very nicely together... as for the other story... this is entitled "Why angela's life is a lesson about courage" After receiving a bad grade on a paper for my Science, Culture, and Society (basically history/philosophy of science) class, i was very scared about talking to the professor about it, but as i truly believed the grade was unfair... i felt i really should go talk to someone about it... gah. i was a nervous wreck... So i finally scheduled an appointment with the professor, who is a really wonderful lecturer and appears to be a nice guy, as opposed to the TA's, who are mean grad students. kakoi! Anyway, i showed up for my appointment to find another student in line ahead of me. i waited outside while he went in the professor's office, but the professor left the door open...so i could hear (unintentionally) everything said... Evidently this boy had also given the teacher a paper to read, claiming the grade was unfair...and the professor started just railing on the student: "This is the worst paper i have read all quarter! Do you even know what teleology is?? i would have given this no points at all. Is this what you're doing with your education? It costs $25,000 to go here and you write this c***?" and the boy gets all defensive, which doesn't help, and the professor repeatedly asks him whether he'd been in class ("yes! yes, i was in class!") and starts quizzing him on various things we'd covered in class.... and i'm sitting on the floor outside his office listening to this and shaking, visibly, trying Zen out with the white wall and lovely empty spaces, but not succeeding very well. Finally the boy walks out on the professor and the prof yells after him, "You're just going to write another piece of trash!" i'm about ready to just run away and never return, but somehow, i gather what little courage i have, say an extra prayer, and knock very timidly on the (still-open) door a couple minutes later... the professor takes one look at me and asks, "...did you have to listen to that?" Looking at the floor, i kind of nod... "God. how much?" "...all of it, sir" "i'm sorry. that kid is a moron." He then asked me what he could help me with, and i said, "Well, i was going to tell you i was a little scared, because i had a question for you that i thought you wouldn't want to hear...but now, i can say that i'm a lot scared..." But it turns out that he was happy to read my paper again and tell me what he thought... then we talked about Newton and Kepler and about school, and the U of C, and my high school experiences, and he even recommended that i take up History and Philosophy of Science as my second major ... maybe just to put a nervous angela at ease, who knows. but i felt much better walking out of there... it sure isn't a given that i'll get a better grade, but i'm pretty certain i'll get a little increase, at least, and i can be sure that i'll get honest feedback... :) Moral of the story: When you pray for strength and intelligibility, God may just send an idiot before you... 1 comment|post comment

trials and tribulations [02 Mar 2002|10:53pm] [ mood | touched ] [ music | Spirogyra - On Liberty Road ] and where has the week gone? ah, it is of little concern to me. another day, another dollar, or something like that. This quarter is ruining me, slowly; it is almost as if i can physically feel the refinement and pain of learning... i really like it, don't get me wrong, but it hurts...though there are extenuating circumstances, i suppose... It snowed yesterday and today, large lovely flakes just spilling over the world, gliding though the streetlights and fluttering against my face... oh, it makes me think of that line from The Last Unicorn... "Oh, where have you been? Where have you been, **** you?! Now you come to me, now! When i'm like this?!" Truly...i could have used this wonder earlier, Sir. But it all comes in time, i suppose, and it helped, regardless, we are happy. Last night was incredibly magical; i was so dreamy and so very tired (not sleepy-kind tired! i mean, really! *blush*) and i remember just pulling myself up to stare out the window at the snow-- it was snowing so hard, and yet, against my eyes, it was like a healing-- like in Madeline L'Engle's book, A Swiftly Tilting Planet, when Gaudior takes Charles Wallace to his birthplace... and Charles Wallace is healed in pain and in glory... the stinging icicle... that's winter for us-- a painful healing, a stinging rebirth, and we are clean again, pure and pristine and sharper than life, jagged edges and bleeding, but oh-so-alive... On nights like these, memory flickers like a candle, or an old movie projector, black-and-white and endlessly playing... caught up in one moment, i am transported backwards to another frozen breath of life, transfixed and trembling... Why is it that i seem unable to forget...? and yet, that is one of my worst fears, it is why i go over my favorite parts, even the most hurtful ones, so that i do not forget. Because i know, yes, i know there is a meaning behind it all. i know that there is a reason we are so incredibly tangled in the past, present, and future. This peculiarity of time has some depth to it... It is only sad, sometimes, that every beauty brings internal tears, that there is little for me that is untouched by the web of experience and past sunlit days, the times i used to walk my dog, my beautiful friend, to the middle school field, and we sat in the middle of the grass watching the sunset, where i would whisper to her about the colors (since i had heard dogs could not see colors) and asked her about the music she could hear (for if in the popular silence, i could hear such music, i could only imagine what music she could hear...) Those long, lonely days of that summer Before, and the ways that things changed After... and then, the winter of two years past, i will never forget what happened in that pale, bluish room as i wondered how things had come to be this way, and thanking God, clumsily, for it having happened to me, because i thought that through faith and rationality, time and logic, we would be somewhat prepared... little did i know that things would be just as bare and isolated, just as chaotic and unsure, two years later... *curls up in a blanket* Do i have anything, uh, real to talk about? Let's see... there's another story, but i think i may save that, just so that this entry isn't ridiculously long... i saw the movie The Big Kahuna yesterday ... It's a movie i would recommend on a case-by-case basis. i liked it; it was sad and funny and cynical and touching at the same time... in fact, it made me think about things a lot... but i'm not sure it would appeal to say, everyone i know... oh! and a very nice boy *waves, blushing* ate breakfast with us this morning ... it is not often that we are terribly good about taking care to eat things that are not 100% sugar (pixie stixx forever! long live Lifesavers! mmmm), and i am so terrible about eating in front of other people *blush*, but it was so nice! and touching, yes, i don't deserve such friends, and i am so eternally thankful that people are patient and deign to tolerate such a broken girl... *blush* i have received so many presents, both immaterial and material lately, *sigh* i only hope i can someday return the favors... yes, i am so thankful for these little-things-which-are-big-things... 1 comment|post comment

oh! [24 Feb 2002|12:04pm] [ mood | thankful ] i almost forgot! The best thing ever happened this morning! i was having the worst trouble trying to use a borders gift card online... and it took so much courage for us to call the help line, but we did, and it turned out to be their system's fault, and so now we are getting a Sigur Ros CD for free! Moral: courage pays off, silly. so does "being nice and patient with the man on the phone" for all those playing along at home. 2 comments|post comment

it's been awhile. [24 Feb 2002|11:20am] [ mood | okay ] [ music | soundtrack to The Little Mermaid ] i haven't really been in the mood to update this for awhile, mostly because i feel so guilty for skipping two of my classes on Thursday. i was really drained, and i just couldn't force myself to sit through two lectures. Not good. What am i, some kind of pansy? As long as i'm in confessional mode, i was also not prepared to translate Friday in Greek Elegy. Scratch that; i was prepared to translate the longer poem we had been assigned, but i neglected the end of this other, terribly fragmented one-- Simonides 11W, ick. i'm not really into this historical narrative... it's rather uninteresting to me... and very difficult. *sigh* some classicist, me. Sometimes i wonder if i love this field, or hate it, or love the idea of it and hate the process, or if i just hate graduate students, or just University of Chicago, or ... *exasperated sigh* ENOUGH! Friday afternoon, i had to visit the Art Institute for my Chinese art class. That was awfully relaxing-- after my charming TA led us on a tour of the Chinese artifacts (and i have to say, it's so lovely to be able to identify the objects, and their significance...everything means a lot more now that i know something about it...), i wandered around the museum for awhile, just looking and daydreaming. My favorite room in the Art Institute is a small enclosed room off the Asian section. It's a room created especially to house these Japanese screens, and it's simply breathtaking... The architect placed sixteen large black pillars at the entrance, specifying that they represent the open screens used to divide space in traditional Japanese homes... As one walks through them, it's almost as if the pillars themselves move and rearrange themselves, each perception, each step is unique and different... the room is as silent as a tomb, but filled with energy and life. i also notice for the first time how the screens are really meant to be viewed from across the room, not really up close... Taking a seat on a bench, i just sat and gazed into the landscape awhile, and i was astonished at how alive it was... the whole scene just opens up, becomes more intense than reality. The other screen shown in this room is charming-- it depicts poetry scrolls hanging upon cherry trees-- it makes me smile just thinking about it, the marriage of man and nature by way of lyric... i also went upstairs to the Ansel Adams exhibit, which was rather well-done. It was only unfortunate that there were so many people there-- we felt rather rushed and uncomfortable among so many. Plus, they had an audio tour available through headphones, which causes many people to forget that there are others in the exhibit as well... i also balked at a somewhat smug and arrogant labelling of Adams' later work as "extravagant" and "melodramatic" revisions of earlier prints. That alone was of ill taste, i thought, but to attribute it to Adams possibly being depressed was even worse, in my humble opinion. Maybe i just don't appreciate people reading psychology into an artist's work, or making unnecessary assumptions. Simply because the masses prefer Adams' work before revision doesn't make those pictures better. *sigh* After walking for awhile downtown, we were quite exhausted, and succeeded, after other obligations and talking animatedly whilst in the grip of blurry euphoria, in sleeping soundly into Saturday, and returning home in a blissfully dreamy glissando. We are in the midst of reading Rousseau's Social Contract now. While i'm not sure about parts of Rousseau's theory-- he is not as good at backing up his ideas with logic as others we have read, and his view of women is deplorable-- other parts of his stuff really appeal to me. Man must be forced to be free. i can't even find words to indicate my agreement. It is so easy for us, when we plan out our lives, if we have a schedule, if we can find a leader to placidly follow. People love their shackles, they love their clocks and datebooks and doctor's appointments on a regular basis. They love their daily vitamins and television shows precisely on time. We love to elect presidents and officials, anyone who will make the decisions for us, who will think for us and tell us what to do; we may then disagree vehemently with their choices, or approve whole-heartedly, or slip into apathy because "oh, no one can ever hope to change anything, the world will always be this way". But we will choose ANYTHING above thinking for ourselves; any kind of security is better than living without knowing definitely what tomorrow will be like. i was speaking with a member of my house at the dining hall the other day. While this person is not repugnant to me, really, i was appalled at how indifferent he was to everything going on in government now, in the world...i understand that we must go on with our lives to some point but... His words were, "i know i'm going to wake up in Broadview and go to class and graduate and everything... none of this stuff going on affects my life. Anyone else could be president, it wouldn't matter." Not to mention that he went on to deprecate "all those Muslims, those Hindus, all those religions" for being the reason he has to wait to get on a plane. And he's dating an Iranian. the poor girl...something tells me their relationship may not last long. Why is it that we are so afraid of anything not like us? Anyone not dipped in red, white, and blue; anyone with different ideas is "radical" or in other words, unwanted. Melting pot, my foot. Ack, we are really not this upset now. Just jotting down a few things... listening to music from our early years... i wish i had a puppy... post comment

it took long enough, didn't it? [18 Feb 2002|02:52am] [ mood | peaceful ] [ music | more music from Gladiator ] Perhaps the music has convinced me, but i've come to a rather simple and obvious conclusion tonight. Thus, we record for our own sake, as all things in this journal are solely meant for this one girl, no matter who else reads it. If some other person is able to take something away, so be it. So, angela, a reminder, from the stricter and more practical parts of you, from those who are older: Living for others is one thing; forcing yourself into their lives is another. You can only be as you are; anything else is folly and farce and elaboration--unnecessary. You are a simple girl, one who thinks strange thoughts and is undeniably broken in almost every way; hiding that will not do any good, flaunting it is even worse. You will live your life for others, in the hopes of helping, with decorum and gentleness, meekness and humility. You will be strong internally, we shall see to that-- by force if necessary-- curbing the desires which are yours, and in your own self-interest-- fulfilling earthly dreams is tempting but not your purpose. Trust that your destiny is the best for you, and for the ones you live for-- do not fret, do not worry, it is already waiting for you to catch up. That said, you must be the best possible to the world, you must use your talents when needed and learn the amazing amount you have to learn along the way. Embrace what you do not know; the greatest things are those which no human mind can understand fully, the awe of the universe, the luminous mystery. You are public property, not unlike the grass or the rocks or the mountains or the air. What have i learned? That i must change, and i will, but only whilst staying this person, this girl who stares at the world in wonder and listens to the music no one else can hear. i cannot change for you, in a human way; i cannot hope to convince others by way of words, no matter how kind or how forceful i am. i will reach out; i will do as my heart and God-given reason guide me to do, but i cannot and will not make superfluous gestures in the futile attempt at keeping people close. i accept those around me, and love them; i celebrate their differences and rejoice in their communal virtues. To be truly loved is to be respected, faults and talents alike, for none of us are perfect. i may not be able to hold your attention or your love-- i am wholly unworthy of it, in fact. But i will live for you, and die for you, if that is necessary. post comment

[17 Feb 2002|09:49pm] [ mood | pensive ] Listen, no, don't listen to me, listen... post comment

wanderings [17 Feb 2002|11:56am] [ mood | contemplative ] [ music | my own clear and trembling milky tone *blush* ] weekend-ish things. We lose all sense of time, and suddenly it is Sunday, new goals, new ideas, new things to accomplish. So what have you been doing, where have you all been, puppies? ah, we are all here, all lined up, licking pixxxxieee sticks, sir! legete, kuniskoi! tell us of your weekend, in all your sugar-laden glory... oh we were so very depress-ed and pathetic on Friday! Kai, kakoi kuniskoi, so mean! But we had interesting moments in our Chinese art class, saying things somewhat obvious to us... Perhaps because there are so many of you up there to look, that is why you can see more. Not necessarily an advantage, puppies. But i'm taking over, because we have serious things of which to speak! we do? yes. Art and Music! So, yes, i love Chinese art, it's incredible-- the Zen tradition and Literati traditions especially-- they never used the character for "to paint" in the dedications on their paintings. Each painting was "written", because it was thought of as calligraphy, a pictorial calligraphy, flowing, like a river. And i think that description makes such sense, because, as opposed to the monumental tradition, where artists tried to encapsulate all the possibilities of a mountain into one picture, the Zen tradition is all about emphasizing space and its placement around objects, mistiness, the prospect of an unknown and broken world. The monumental and court paintings used short brush strokes, they could be added to continually, made over the course of weeks or months or years. But there's not much to add to a straight, true line, a simple curve, and you can't undo or retract an ink wash. To paint in the Zen tradition, one must have the idea conceived already, completely; one must draw the line knowing already where it will end up, it has a purpose, and yet, the picture has an undoubtable quality of realness. i can't really describe it. A couple links? Sure, let's see... http://www.chinapage.com/sushi8.html http://www.chinapage.com/red-cliff.html http://www.kyohaku.go.jp/meihin/kaiga/chugoku/mh5037e.htm i was really looking for a specific painting, but i can't find it...hm. Later, perhaps. Anyway. Enough of our silly blathering. We slowly got out of our mood, slowly, then went to a performance at a neat little coffee shop... It's incredible how music allows me to transcend all this anxiety... a very homey sound, it was like coming home, a home i never had. The performance reminded me of the nights i spent at Andy & Lynn's house, a warm sound, true, honest, not at all harsh. i saw a lot of interesting people, and wow! i heard Sam sing. Such an honor, i tell You; i am amazed at the talents of my friends. i sit here typing this, fluttering away, and on irc, people i know, people i don't deserve to know, are discussing how much true, honest work they put into a failing company, a company with corrupt management, a company that hurt a lot of people, but had the best and brightest and most amazing people working at 2am for them, coming together. i was thinking a lot about how musical concepts might be applied to other things, especially very fallen structures, like the business world. Does business have to be corrupt? Does a management have to be evil? The way these people work together reminds me of music, coming together, circling and blending, arriving at an infinitesimal point... Sometimes, i think that i would like to try heading a company, seeing what would work to bring people together in a harmonious way, with the least amount of dischord [sic]... There's a lot to be said on this topic; and so far, i've not read one management book that has gotten the idea remotely right. (Yes, i read management books. My father is a manager, and about a trillion other things, so i read his stuff, and poke around behind the scenes, because i am curious, and i want to see what this strange and intimidating realm is all about...) But could i really handle doing a conducting job for the rest of my life? And conducting sharp and flat and too-fast and too-slow people, rather than perfect tones? Without ever being "finished"? It certainly challenges my work ethic. i would be so good as a subordinate... because being subordinate would give me a direction to go in, a rule to follow. It is much more dangerous for the puppies to be left to their own devices and police themselves, discipline, yes, and yet-- i know that it's just what i need to do. Staying in safe places will never lead me anywhere... Looking back i can finally see How failures bring humility... oh, only let me have the faith and courage to look upwards in humility and acceptance, and love... post comment

and in the morning... [15 Feb 2002|05:01am] [ mood | numb ] [ music | George Winston - Living Without You ] Oh what's the use? Morning, night, mid-day, all of it is the same except for the quietness, the serene pond-like quality of the night, and for all the work i've been doing to not-feel, still, rushes of memory cloud my eyes. i barely recognize what i write on the paper anymore-- 2nd conjugation, 3rd io conjugation, i must do well the rest of this quarter. We let Latin slide into a perilous condition... but i can't concentrate. i don't really know how i pull this schooling bit off. i don't belong here, don't deserve to be here. My papers are nothing more than me ruminating in ink, i don't work hard enough, i rely on intuition, and my somewhat deplorable ability to take crusts of information and make out of them a four-course meal. Nevermind that although it looks pleasing to the eye, it is not at all nourishing to the body. Nevermind that i am slowly driving myself further into insanity. Nevermind that i live life as a game, taking more and more in, never letting go of the past, dragging it behind me into the future. i love doing so many things-- i feel quite Roman, in a sense. i like all the different ideas melting together, and i come up with the strangest parallels, and it pleases me, in that respect. But i'm ever-so-tired, and i can't sleep at all without chemicals (with a few surprising exceptions), and i live on sugar and the substance of music and raw emotions. It's these emotions that keep me alive-- i devour them day and night, pushing them aside into the back of my mind, where they are less harmful, and crushing them into something like passion, something like zeal, something i can digest fully-- art, melody, color, sunlight... and yet another pointless entry in the journal of an utterly useless girl. post comment

well. [14 Feb 2002|08:37pm] [ mood | uncomfortable ] [ music | Saint-Saens - Le Rouet D'Omphale (Op. 31) ] It's funny how we design a holiday, we make it about love, and acceptance, and friendship, and sweetness... and somehow it only ends up hurting people left and right. The funniest things came to light today, how does a fluttering, nervous one like myself deal? work, work, work. that's how. work. don't think. imagine other things. play with stickers and ignore it. or try. i don't deal well with people, and social circles only confuse me. How is it that people are so cruel? How is it that we justify it? i came across the best quote in Rousseau's Second Discourse: It is Philosophy that isolates him; by means of Philosophy he secretly says, at the sight of a suffering man, perish if you wish, i am safe. [...] One of his kind can with impunity be murdered beneath his window; he only has to put his hands over his ears and to argue with himself a little in order to prevent Nature, which rebels within him, from letting him identify with the man being assassinated. Oh, what a wonderful illustration of intelligent people justifying evil. What a lovely rendition upon the finest of our human instruments, our elegant words and the tapestry of logic, of how we seek and scurry to find a way to rationalize things unpleasant to our conscience, and pleasing to our vices. Anything to make someone happy, because obviously a person shouldn't do anything that might leave him in an uncomfortable state, right? Oh, right. Thus, my friends, we break off communication with those who love us, yes? And we run to some new pleasure, in attempts at drowning out our doubts, our internal debates. We stop speaking, at least of substantial things, and our promises (which Hobbes says are invalid and doomed to failure anyway, such an optimistic man) are thrown to the wind. i am tired of believing. i am tired of trusting. It makes me, how should i say, uncomfortable. unhappy, because i am often let down. The pleasure pales in the pain of the impending and prophesized disaster, but you know what, dear reader? i still trust. i still form friendships, even while nervous and still in pain from the last time. i still believe, and i endure. It has not treated me well often, but when it has i have been most pleasantly surprised. What i cannot understand are those who give their words voluntarily, with ostensible love, and later relinquish and deny and break by means of action. it saddens me, and not so much hurts me as makes it harder for me to believe. there are no flowers on this day for us. nothing of care, other than words in a box (and, yes, all of you, it is quite a lovely box of text we have, and yes, you are the reason i still believe, you are incredible). but we are full of love. most of all for those who need it; those who think us untrue are misguided. We may be stupid, we may be naive, we may be silent and perhaps hard to be around, but we are not unfaithful. And we will never act against our promises. It is hard to watch you do this, but we will watch, with the knowledge that a part of you, silent memory, is watching with the same disappointment. 8 comments|post comment

want to run away.... [12 Feb 2002|06:00pm] [ mood | wistful ] [ music | Darrin Drda - The Moon Above the Mountains ] What a heart-breakingly beautiful day...white clouds racing across the sharp blue sky...everything cutting me with sharp corners...and we are listening to music we first heard down in that magical, mystical place in Urbana...amidst the candlelight and incense smoke, the place where bells rang inside of me... the moon above the mountains is a mighty-fine sight to see cause it makes me think there's something i've got to do so pale this morning...whilst writing my paper on the circulation of the blood...i wondered whether mine really did...i want to be an astronaut...i watch the sky like some people gaze into the faces of their lovers, or their watches...sometimes i swear i can see it ripple, like a lake, and the waves of sadness wash over me...it is so perfect....and shattered, yes, broken into dust... There's a trip March 14-22 to see and photograph the Northern Lights...rainbows in the sky...with the best dorky teacher ever...i want to go so badly...*dreams* All i want to do is go around looking at things...i am so tired of having too many words for that which needs none, the raw language of the universe, music threaded like ribbons through the strands of the cosmos... Frost arrived home safely, thank God. and we have lovely music. and anime from a beautiful girl in California. and i know the most wonderful people in the world. i only wish i could be good enough to deserve everything i have. post comment

*blink* [10 Feb 2002|10:42am] [ mood | hopeful ] [ music | Frank Sinatra & Dean Martin - New York, New York ] Well. *shakes her head, trying to clear it* Such a strange week. It was intended for this to be a....thought journal? Something beyond "what this loser girl does everyday", because, see, we aren't even interested in that. A meta-journal. But it seems thoughts are so intrinsically tied to what happens to me...*sigh* So many memories. Friday was like a big sine curve. like say, y = 938572sin(x). Whether it was actually sine or cosine depends on one's definition of when "Friday" began. All those days are smudged into one another, when one doesn't sleep. There's "awake time", "dreamy druggy time", and "sleepy time". uh. yeah. So, like, Thursday and Friday proper were all wakey wakey time, and dude, too much wakeywakey time makes an angela crave sleep and drugs and respite from her thoughts. (i am not an addict. all my drugs are legally prescribed to me. for reasons. i just happen to take enjoyment in them, as well.) So we had our Latin midterm Friday, which ... went. Plagued by terribly vivid memories all day...all we wanted was to go home... Then there were magical moments with pretty music, music that made me shut off the computer and curl up on the floor, because it was drilling itself into my mind, wafting into my lungs, injecting itself into the fragile membrane around the heart... *sigh* i seem to have a problem -- feeling violated and infringed upon and utterly trampled by simple tones. But you know, there are worse things and people who have used and discarded me...at least this way, it is somewhat at my discretion, before it happens, that is... Preparing one's mind for evening plans shouldn't be this hard. It's honestly, like lecturing puppies-- bicker, bicker, whine, CANDYYY, shivering, tumbling, playing, ignoring, frightened-- *sigh*. how silly. wearing safe black, we finally venture out, playing pool with long strides, in the midst of a too-sharp, too-loud dream, not speaking except to hash out game details... "Another?" nod... We finally saw Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring. Wow. wow. wow. wow. The puppies were scared into submission, and awed. *wide-eyed blink* i can't fathom not liking this movie... it was so well-done, and yes, parts from the book were somewhat distorted, but i think it was as true as one movie can be.. Spinning, spinning, spinning. Sometimes i am just one big internal debate. Stepping out of the melee for awhile, i'm not sure what to make of the mess i've gotten myself into. *blush* but...it's snowing! and it will be okay! i don't like being trite, but well.... it has to be okay. Sometimes i really just need someone to tell me that. *looks at the puppies* maybe i can train one of these to tell me... forget it, yo. we're playing tag. ah, thanks. post comment

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