Magical Security Guards

On Monday morning I went to campus early to ensure that I'd get a certain French assignment completed and turned in by 9 AM. I was sitting in the library with my computer and my books scattered across a desk for a couple of hours, working feverishly. For some reason, when I haven't gotten enough sleep, my allergies kick in, and Monday morning my nose was running like crazy. I had a pocket pack of tissues in my bag, but I quickly used all of them. There weren't but a handful of people (nothing compared to how many there are around noon), so I thought it'd be okay to run to a bathroom quickly to take care of my nose situation - without packing up my stuff of course. I actually jogged to and from - it couldn't have been more than three minutes that I was gone. But upon my return, I noticed a little card that had been placed on my keyboard. I looked around quickly like I was in an espionage movie or something. The only time I've seen security guards is when I'm on the 3rd floor late at night - they'll occasionally walk by the row of study desks with heavy footsteps and stern faces. They must have cameras...or magic!

Jewels: A Secret History by Victoria Finlay

I just finished reading a good book!  I read another Victoria Finlay book a couple of years ago called Color: A Natural History of the Palette, which I enjoyed very much. Color was a wonderful introduction into the world of pigments, with each chapter discussing the history of a different chemical that has been used to color our world. The research for both of the books took her all over the world, and her writing style is so friendly, I couldn't help but imagine myself exploring right along with her. Jewels: A Secret History is comprised of nine chapters, which are ordered from softest to hardest according to the Mohs Scale of Hardness. The minerals discussed (in order) are: amber, jet, pearl, peridot, emerald, sapphire, ruby, and diamond. I have to say that I had never even heard of "jet" before opening this book, and really I learned a lot about all of the included gems. Jewels really are a fascinating and relevant part of human history, but I seriously doubt that the average person knows that emeralds, once the most desired gem in the world, were only found in Egypt, or that to wear even a single pearl in ancient Rome would have been a display of tremendous wealth. Her report spans from ancient opulence to modern poverty, and begs you to reconsider the way you look at pretty, sparkly things.

I love Natalie.

Here's why...

If my YouTube subscriptions feel like my friends, then Natalie is like my bff, for sure. I love all of her videos...actually I just spent like 2 hours watching me some Nat. Yeah, I'm cool.

Keanu Reeves and Bernadette Peters

I recently started Twitter following this guy who I think is really cute (and smart, too!). He has no idea who I am, but that's okay. Occasionally he'll mention that he's going tanning, and that he's very excited about it, like he's going to Disney World or something. I can't really remember a time when I was tan, although I remember many times when I wish I was tan, even when I was little. I know that if enough elements come together, that I can develop a noticeable tan on my arms and legs, and if I'm lucky, on my face.  But a full-body tan is something that I can only dream about. That being said, even though I'd love to be tan, just for kicks, whenever I attempt to lay myself out in the summer sun, the entire time all I can think is "Skin cancer skin cancer skin cancer." A few days after my unsuccessful tanning session, I'll notice a new freckle and be completely convinced that I'm being punished for going against my lifelong indoctrination in the horrors of sun damage.

My brother is slightly darker than I am. He's more athletic, too. He was in the army and the navy - he tanned. And just a few years ago, him and his wife went on a big tanning bed kick. Now that he's in his 40s, the sun damage is beginning to show up. I asked him how he felt about tanning. Bad idea, he says. He told me to look at Bernadette Peters - hasn't aged in like 20 years. Apparently she's never been sunburned in her life. Then look at Keanu Reeves. He may be immortal.  Or maybe he just doesn't tan. Actually, I know two things about Keanu: he's Canadian and he played hockey growing up. Maybe that's the secret to looking immortal. Get a lot of exercise, while simultaneously avoiding the sun. Sounds promising.

Bern Hill

I love Antiques Roadshow. I never plan to watch it, but if I'm flipping through the channels and see that it's on, I'll always watch the entire thing. Yeah, I'm cool. I was having trouble getting into sleep mode last night, so I found myself watching PBS at 2 in the morning. This particular episode was in Louisville, which, btw, I refuse to pronounce "Louvul." I saw something that I really wanted to have for myself. An American artist, named Bern Hill, produced a reasonable number of illustrations used to advertise train travel in the mid-twentieth century, and I think they're due more recognition. I especially love the different perspectives he used and the theatrical use of color.

When I searched "Bern Hill" I found very little (not even a Wikipedia page!). Actually, my biggest find turned out to be the product of another blogger who saw the exact same episode of Antiques Roadshow when it originally aired last year. I laughed when I saw that most of the blog comments were from random people who had also just watched Antiques Roadshow. Here's the blog: Alphabet City: Bern Hill.  The pictures I included below (except for the last, which I stole from here) are ones that the blog's author took of his television. I really enjoy the illustration that shows the shadow of the bridge over which the train is traveling. I would love to have one of these posters to hang in my home.

Yelling at my dreams

Lately, I haven't much liked my dreams. They're awful! Last week, I had a dream that I was talking to my mom on the phone while driving at night. She was trying to help me figure out how to get somewhere, but when I saw a bridge in the distance, I declared, "Oh no, this can't be right." And then I crash in a huge concrete wall - obviously I thought I was in a real lane, but I wasn't!

Although that dream did startle me enough so that I had to wake up and turn my bedroom light on, I wouldn't say that it's the best example of how weird my dreams are lately. I have this thing, where as soon as I wake up, my internal dialogue will be "What the hell was that dream? Where the f*** are you pulling that shit from mind? Like what bizarre horror movie did I see when I was 12 that enables you to incorporate these images in my dreams?" I talk to dream like they're a human to whom I'm giving money for a service...if you didn't pick up on that. I wake up and basically get mad at my dreams, as if I'm have no power over them at all, like I'm just a paying consumer hoping for a good show. It takes me a few seconds to realize how ridiculous that is, but I do it anyway.

I woke up from my last dream out of annoyance because I was basically watching two people argue whether wine was better than beer. I listened to a lot of it before I said, "Why the hell am I dreaming this?" But that's pretty typical - me just watching people I don't know in painfully every day scenarios that don't interest me...but I watch them anyway.

There's another kind of dream that involves people I do know, usually the people who I think of as my best friends. It goes something like this. I find myself somewhere (basically anywhere that I've ever been), standing alone idly. The friend comes out of nowhere, briskly marching toward me. They've made obvious changes to their appearance that I don't care for. They'll have gotten a nose job to make their nose larger, or dyed their hair an unflattering color. But really the problem is that this person suddenly doesn't like me, and that's the reason they're in my dream. It's not so much that I've done anything (after all I'm just standing alone minding my own business, right), rather it's just that we don't get along anymore. Sometimes it's a basic personality change, other times it's that the person has seen the light and thinks that we never really should have been friends to begin with. This is usually such an unpleasant scenario that I wake up, after a brief stint of in-dream crying.

This would be fantastic!

though I suspect that I may need a few more IQ points...  and definitely a French tutor.

FAIL at posting updates

My last entry was evidently on September 17!  That's over a month ago.  Hence, my FAIL.

I started using my old LiveJournal again...  I'm just so used to divulging intimate information on LiveJournal, that it was hard to do it anywhere else. I was trying to use this journal/blog to write musings on things other than the trivialities of my own life, while also being more positive. I know that some people claim to be able to write better when they're in love, or when they're not happy, or after they've had a shot of whiskey. I was making an effort to prove that I'm not that kind of a person - that I can write about anything, no matter where I am in my life. I have to say, despite my best efforts, that it's not as easy as it sounds to just sit down and write about something. Those LiveJournal entries usually had some passion behind them, some chutzpah, which definitely helped my writing. I'm thinking the trick isn't so much practicing my writing as it is kindling my ability to become suddenly passionate about any selection of subjects.

I've decided my blog needs to be more visually interesting, so I plan to post more fun stuff...which will help the project seem to be less about me. Which is good.

Cursing Flies

I have to say that I cuss more when I'm alone, especially now that I'm living alone. Besides the obvious reason that I have the chance to cuss freely without the risk of offending anyone, I was trying to think of a reason why I cuss more. It's funny because - again because I'm alone so much - I can go almost an entire day without saying a thing, but when I do speak, there's a good chance that it will be "motherfucker" or "fuck my life" or maybe just a simple "damn." I've been running into spiders and houseflies a lot more, and that's definitely when it's the worst. I can easily spout off a long list of curse words if I see a fast-approaching spider. Worst-case scenario: the spider jumps. Ugh. A few days ago, I was working at my computer, when a moderately-sized spider crawled out from behind the monitor onto the top of the screen.  "FUCK."  That shit was close to my face.  That particular spider made a successful escape. I did not sleep well that night.
But as much as I loathe spiders, they typically keep to themselves. The real invaders are flies! Last week, a remarkably large fly found itself in my very small apartment. It kept flying at me kamikaze-style. I could feel my basic instincts kicking in, hastily deciding whether to risk my life in order to slay the beast or just leave for a few days and hope it starves to death. I turned the AC down, hoping that the cooler temperature might slow it down a little. I armed myself with a rolled-up GQ in one hand and a newspaper in the other. This was not a normal fly - it was like something from the Amazon, and it was in  for the kill. At one point I had it shut in my bedroom, but it figured out an escape through the vent and resumed torturing me with its unpredictably timed assaults. This is when I assumed I was dealing with an intelligent lifeform and began talking to the fly. I eventually opened the door to the hallway and allowed the fly to leave on his own accord, but it was still a very tense moment.

College as a Necessity

If I had millions of dollars, would I still want to go to college?

Certainly people who are born into millionaire families go to college, albeit much more comfortable, more celebrated colleges.  But if tomorrow someone were to give me a check for 200 million dollars, I can see college suffering a significant drop on my list of priorities. Ideally, you go to college to learn, to expand your mind, but I've never thought of it that way. I've always seen it as a way to earn more money and to prove my worth. It was a matter of what kind of lifestyle I wanted, not what I wanted to do research in. I feel like that is pretty consistent with the aims of most people my age who are going to college. If I had millions of dollars, my reasons for pursuing a degree would probably be more social than financial. You might choose to go to Harvard so that you can remain on the same level as the kids you went to Exeter with, so that you can still party together and share the photos of your safari in Botswana...and so that you can maintain your lifestyle. I'm just imagining, I don't have any research to back this up.

I was thinking about this because this last week I've read some about studying in Paris. One of the schools I'm interested in had a "the cost of living in Paris" page that I examined very closely. In the section covering the renting of apartments, there was a little note about "students with higher incomes" that made me open my eyes a little wider. Of course, I had been mostly looking at the price of living in what's called a "chambre de bonne," which is basically an extra room, historically intended for maids and such, and usually found on the top floor of an old building. I searched "chambre de bonne" on Google and found some fairly posh-looking examples, so it's a matter of how you fill the space. But I'm curious about these students with "higher incomes." It'd be amazing to study in Paris without having to stress about the horrible exchange rate, or to have to wonder why coffee in one neighborhood costs 4 euros more than coffee in the next. I should probably worry about improving my French first.

Neighbors

Is it weird to do google searches on your neighbors?  I met my upstairs neighbor today.  I figured it was a guy a while ago: he comes home pretty late, usually around eleven, when I'm getting ready for bed - he walks heavy.  He also drives a navy VW Golf, which is in my opinion a very guy car.  I haven't really figured out when he leaves for work.  I assume work is the reason he comes home about 11.  Well, I actually talked to him tonight!
I was heading out to the dumpster to get rid of a particularly disgusting bag of fast food that I couldn't finish.  He was sitting on the stoop, right outside the door.  It had been drizzling for a few hours; he was noticeably rained-upon. He was wearing a blue running outfit.    You could probably imagine the conversation.  I asked if he could ever hear me.  No.  I told him that I'm going to MU, that I'm a transfer from Truman.  He gave an "Oh" response, like "Oh, Truman..." which I'm not sure meant that he actually recognized the name.  He's a photographer for the Columbia Tribune.  For some reason, I got the sense that he wasn't a Columbia native.  I wanted to ask him a few more questions, but didn't want to impose on his quiet post-running stoop time.  I'd say he's an attractive guy.  He's also a Nick.
So, I searched him. Seems like he does mostly sports photography, but I've found at least one non-sports collection. So many photos come up - I feel like I've chanced upon some Columbia celebrity.

Living In a War Zone

Today I had a thought: How strange it must be to live in a country that has war on its border, or even worse, within its border.  When it first occurred to me, it felt like a breakthrough, but the more it sits in my mind, the more stupid it sounds.  Think of how many movies I've seen, how many articles I've read about war, and this is just now becoming a thought?  I even went to Israel, a country whose continued existence owes thanks to state-sanctioned violence and oppression.  How nice it is that I live at this time in history and in a country where I am relatively very safe.  As long as I am not hurting anyone or threatening anyone (physically, or otherwise), I could do whatever I want to do with myself, provided I have the resources.

I've been having weird dreams lately, like some with familiar faces that I haven't seen in ages, all saying things that bother/anger me. Mostly it's just me seeing them and being excited. It's usually that I've walked somewhere unfamiliar. I think I'm lost but then I see them and become hopeful. But when I try to talk to them, there's something so fundamentally different about them that I have to question whether or not I truly have stumbled upon someone I actually know, or an impostor.  It usually wakes me up.

More than music

Music means a lot to me.  Someone long ago planted a seed in my brain - one that reprimands me when I relate to song lyrics too much, as if the song was written about me.  The person who wrote the song probably wrote it about their own experiences, but did they also plan it out thinking that perfect strangers in different circumstances would be searching for meaning in the same words?  Well, I don't know, I'm thinking of Coldplay right now...and I imagine they do attempt to make their songs' meanings ambiguous enough so that they can be enjoyed by a wide selection of people who are applying the lyrics to very different situations.  Coldplay nearly always makes me take a step back.  I actually wanted to write about how certain bands, like Coldplay, make me feel timeless, as if everytime I listen to "The Scientist," for example, I'm the exact same person.  Probably the first twenty times I heard "The Scientist" I didn't even know that it was called "The Scientist" but I like to think that every time that song comes up on iTunes, on some level my present self is converging with past versions...  and they're all pretty happy about it.  Some of those times I was alone, maybe depressed.  Other times I was on road trips - I might have been in Oregon, I might have been in Buffalo...or on a plane to Orlando.  I might have been listening to it as I drifted off to sleep.  Again this song in particular, it makes me feel like I'm progressing, like I'm moving on to something brighter. Maybe I'm not completely satisfied with the state of what I'm leaving, but still I'm optimistic that everything will work out for the best.  Everyone will be happy.  I tend to envision myself sitting in the window seat of an airplane, gazing at the blue lights of the tarmac during take-off, and I have this amazing sense of security.  It's pretty great.

Working at the Bookstore

My temp job at the bookstore as a cashier is hit and miss: either I'm really busy or I'm standing around for hours with nothing to do. The time goes by so much faster when all I'm doing is scanning books and swiping credit cards. They asked me to come in 30 minutes earlier for Wednesday and today at 8 am. I'm not sure what their logic was because even when we were scheduled for 8:30, it seemed as if we didn't really start until 9:30, and the students didn't begin to come in in droves until after 11. We all arched our proverbial eyebrows, but gladly accepted 30 minutes worth of additional pay. I once got reprimanded for flipping through an O magazine during one of those hours of nothingness - my supervisor firmly took it out of my hands the way you would from a small child who's misbehaving. *sigh* There are slightly less registers than cashiers, so occasionally I am told to dust different parts of the store. Today I was trusted with money (promotion?), but then was promptly exiled to the outdoor cash register by myself. They had a special tent set up on the front patio with dorm furnishings. I don't even think I had a dozen transactions in 6 hours. Part of that time was spent helping with the set up (I was really proud of my rug display), but the majority of the time was lost to idle people watching and day dreaming. There were three university Christian groups set up around the bookstore. One was giving out freeze-pops... had to get one. I skillfully played the Israel card. I might actually go to one of their talks to see what it's like.

Now I'm going to the glorious MizzouRec... and trying not to feel like the most puny person there. :)

Single Single Life

Shame on me for not updating this blog more often.

I've been in my new apartment for two weeks now, and I'm loving it. I don't have many complaints. Learning to cook all of my meals on my own is challenging, but it's also an easy confidence boost when I do manage to figure things out. I have to say that it feels weird spending so much money on things that are just for me. Usually when I go out and buy a new spatula (luxury!) or a skillet, I know that other people will be using it, too, but I'll be the only one here for a good part of the time. I'm still a little short on furniture. My brother, Andy, gave me a nice TV that he had in his basement - definitely an upgrade from the tiny one I had had in my dorm room. And my parents pulled some other extra furniture out of the chaos of our basement, so I have a table to eat/work on. I also have a new mattress, which is so wonderful! My old mattress at home was seriously not doing good things for my back. I don't think that I want a couch, maybe just a big chair for TV watching. I'm afraid that too much furniture will make it feel too small. I like all of the floor space.

I'm still drinking the Mizzou kool-aid. I still think it's great. Amanda took me around to all of my class locations a couple days ago. Not bad at all. Two of my buildings are in close proximity to a Starbucks, which could definitely spell trouble for my checking account. I visited the rec center yesterday. It was beautiful. I might have cried a little. The treadmills...have touchscreen...TVs...and built-in iPod docks. Just beautiful. I don't have cable in my apartment, so I figure I might go to the rec to watch shows on certain days. Haha. It works... The complex was designed very well. When I walked in, it felt more like a hotel than a typical athletic facility. They also have designated quiet rooms with machines and weights, so you don't have to kill your ears. Even if I have to spend time finding a parking place, it's still a definite upgrade from any workout place I've been to before.

So far, I don't feel like transferring to Mizzou has greatly altered any of my relationships. I still plan on visiting my old university pretty frequently. My primary goal at Mizzou is to regain confidence in my academic ability, but I'm afraid it might be hard to focus in a new environment with so many new things to do and people to meet. I'm hoping that having a place to be alone will aid me in maintaining a sane perspective on my life. At Truman I felt like I was constantly being tugged in different directions, with the only hope of feeling normal being total escape. I definitely have no desire to ever feel those emotions again. Certain relationships, one in particular, I'm destined to maintain for a long time coming, and I'm quite happy about it. Now that I'm closer to being in my element again, it's easier to appreciate people for every thing they are, and also to see my own mistakes without completely condemning myself.