nondescript's blog

Yeats would probably loathe me.
Part of me is quite alright with that.

"In der Wirtsstube fand ich lauter Leben und Bewegung. Studenten von verschiedenen Universitäten. Die einen sind kurz vorher angekommen und restaurierten sich, andere bereiten sich zum Abmarsch, schnüren ihre Ranzen, schreiben ihre Namen ins Gedächtnisbuch, erhalten Brockensträuße von den Hausmädchen: da wird in die Wangen gekniffen, gesungen, gesprungen, gejohlt, man fragt, man antwortet, gut Wetter, Fußweg, Prosit, Adieu. Einige der Abgehenden sind auch etwas angesoffen, und diese haben von der schönen Aussicht einen doppelten Genuß, da ein Betrunkener alles doppelt sieht."

-Heinrich Heine, Zitat aus Die Harzreise

Roommate: "Where's Andy?"
Me: "He should be here any minute."
Phone: "Ring. Ring. Ring."
Me: "He'll be about 15 minutes late."

--Half an hour later--

Roommate: "Where's Andy?"
Me: "Good question."

--10 minutes later--

Door: "Knock, knock."
Andy, giggling a little, with a brown paper bag.

--After dinner--

Andy: "Did you feel the bag at all?"
Me: "I don't want to spoil the surprise."
Andy: "Mumble. Mumble.
Me: "Don't give the surprise away!"
Andy: "Alright, alright. --Giggles-- Your present rocks though."

Surprise:

1. very cool rock with blue and green veins
5. hand warmers for my perpetually cold hands

And the reason for his tardiness =
22. chapsticks, none of which were the same

Best reason for being late ever.
 

One December, a friend of mine who lives in Michigan called. His voice was shivery and cut in and out because of the wind and the poor cell phone connection.

"Where are you," I asked.

"Outside of L----'s dorm."

"Doing what?"

"I'm bringing her flowers. And I forgot gloves. It's cold outside."

"I can hear that. Where is she?"

"I'm waiting for her to come outside."

L didn't necessarily reciprocate my friend's feelings.

Somehow this call stuck with me as being the most romantic thing I'd ever heard. Standing outside the dorm of a girl's window with the unfortunate knowledge that she wouldn't appreciate his efforts-- and standing out there anyways, gloveless--fingers numb around a bouquet of flowers.

I'm sure it's only because of the first line, because it talks about love and Michigan (and how often are those two really paired?), that I've been thinking about this. And somehow in my mind, love has become associated with cold and snow. Funny really, because I haven't seen snow in years.

"I'd swim across Lake Michigan
I'd sell my shoes
I'd give my body to be back again
in the rest of the room

To be alone with you"

-Sufjan Stevens.

This semester has been rather disappointing thus far. Towards the end of my stay in Freiburg, I started to get excited about the fall semester. I had hoped to get into a good running cycle, see friends, be social and productive. However, all I do is work, read, write and sleep. I've only run a handful of times. I love having people over and cooking for them. I believe I have only cooked for people four times this semester? Not many more times than that, if more than that. Baked? Twice? When was the last time I painted? Before the semester started. The friends I'd hoped to see a lot of this semester, I haven't. I returned from Freiburg, happy to finally be around friends again, and yet, we're all too busy. I find myself staring at my computer screen most Friday nights, wishing I either had the balls to call people or the contentment to just sit and do my homework. Not that there haven't been any surprising and memorable moments. I've had a few of those. It's just those Friday nights that are getting to me, I guess. That and the growing anxiety for next year and what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate. I have a few  (3) options, but none of them are sure. All but one of them could easily fall through (that one being, stay in Tucson for a year, working, studying for the GRE and applying to grad schools). And when have I really had the free time to productively think about grad school...?

I have at least 5 papers to write within the next month. And two huge tests.
Is it naive of me to look forward to next semester?

I lost my journal.