Wind Resistance

I dig it, and you may too.

Super saucy. Makes me want to put on a white dress and espadrilles and go dancing outside under some colorful lights, in humidity (is it humid in Brazil?).

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Again, back to last night. I was thinking about how I would've savored my last semester differently. I tried to, tried to soak it all in, make it different... and it was, it felt like I was hanging on to the same thing of semesters and years past, but this time it held an inevitable change at the end of the course load. It was bittersweet when it was over. I'm still torn and still yearn.

.

[8-8-08: It was amazing though, that extra semester. Honestly, it was a great time. In the end it made me want to leave more than I wanted to stay, possibly due to the fact that it was wintertime in mid-Missouri and I was burnt out from partyin' and procrastination, ready to explore the world... From the August house party with the excited freshman exclaiming that he loves college - a baby of 18 making me feel old, old, old - to my final round of finals running on caffeine, adderoll and the knowledge that it will all be over too soon, I cried during my financial planning final from lack of sleep, knowledge and fear that I might have to re-take another number course. I passed. I still procrastinated, after 4 full years of college I was a champ. I loved being surrounded by people my age, strolling through the sprawling campus, running around the track and through the woods. I walked everywhere, or rode my bike, or relied on friends if it was too far since I sold my car the previous summer to afford living in Chicago on an unpaid internship and a meager paycheck from serving. The constant partying, especially Wednesday through Tuesday. People converging on downtown as the sky light dims and the street lamps shine on. I'm smiling. And I guess I am sad that it's over, but glad that it happened. The people I met, the things I did and saw shaped me, and will stay with me. Oh, and also, that August night house party, when my friend and I were leaving at around 3:30a, walking through East Campus, up our old street, an older Asian gentleman approached us with his hands clasped behind his back. I must admit I was a little afraid as I didn't know what he had concealed, but he said, "Excuse me" and asked us for our "company" - oh sir, oh sir! Are you propositioning us?! We're college seniors, not prostitutes, you want 3 streets over... those Steven's girls are sluts. It was weird, obvi - do you hate it that I shortened it like that? I used to, too, but not I think it's fun. Say it out loud. Do it. Say it. "Obvi." Fun, right? Right. You love it. Take it on as your own. Go ahead. It's okay.]

What I wrote in the darkness as I was trying to fall asleep with Heart's "Crazy on You" stuck in my head (it was on the radio when I made sure the alarm volume would be loud enough - 3 seconds and it stuck), surprising legible as well --

bird's nest:

fall, flap,

wind resistance.

learn how to

fly

on your own,

you'll get it

eventually.

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PS - I've been slightly distracted, and I don't want to say depressed, but depressed, this week what with the expensive move up the street (no bad roomie anymore!!), roommate interviews, no work at work, and lots of things expected of myself from myself, family/friends and billing institutions. So apologies for that as I dust the dirt off my ass and prepare to climb back in the saddle of life - just give me a minute to catch my breath. Shit! The horse is starting to run off.

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And this Scott Tuma song is a good winding down lullaby of a song.

Jackrabbit Snipers!

I wish I would've walked to school more when I was in high school. I didn't live that far away. Just up the street, about a mile. There weren't any major hills, and it was slightly downhill going to it. I did everything in my power not to walk: rides from friends, friends' parents/siblings, brother. I don't know why. Maybe I didn't want to get all sweaty (Missouri can get quite warm, and quite cold) before class, or because for some reason I thought it wasn't cool. I walked to elementary school with friends, and the middle school was basically in my backyard, and that would've been silly to get a ride. There's an exception to everything, and I guess there were a handful of days when I did walk to h. school. Also, the big duffel bags during sports seasons were a pain in the ass to lug. Eventually I got my own ride and that was fun.

Now I'm back to my pre-16 days without a car. And I have to say, I love it. I walked a lot in college because I always lived on or near campus, and I walk a lot now, being in the city because the CTA is never there when you need it. I really hate paying for cabs unless I absolutely have to take one, and then I try to get as close to my destination as possible before caving, and usually I talk myself into just finishing out the walk because I am so close. Sometimes the night doesn't permit it though and I get creeped out by the strangers lurking just beyond the streetlamps.

Anyway, what brings this on is that I was really enjoying walking to work today - there's just something about the fact that you got yourself from A to B all on your own accord, without a motor or a machine. That you, yourself, are a finely tuned machine with muscles propelling you in the direction of your destination. It's rewarding. And I think I'm in love with running again. Not obsessively so just yet, but getting close. I think I need to get new shoes before that happens. I've always enjoyed it - well, not true. I was on the track team for about a week in 8th grade, and then I got shin splints, ugh! it was awful, and I was a little baby about it, but I feel it was slightly warranted as I was only 13 and shin splints are no good no matter what the age. But yes, I find running to be a fun, sometimes relaxing, and most definitely energizing, and a positively meditative experience.

I ran 13 on Saturday, east down Chicago Ave. then up and down the lakefront, in 2 hours - so that made me happy, and it was noon-time. Hotness, and salty sweat. Then, I stretched while waiting for the bus - good use of time. It finally came and I moved to the back of the bus, just because sometimes that's where I sit if I'm going to be on it for a while, and also I was smelly, but so was the little boy next to me. There were about 1,000,000,000 kids in the back of the bus, and as soon as I took the step up to the platform and saw them, I wanted to turn around. But it was as if I made contact with every single one of them (I didn't really, but that would've been really bizarre/possibly humorous/most definitely um, creepy?) and they dared me to sit in their insanity. So I rose to the challenge and took a seat. Anyway, we're zooming-stopping-starting down Chicago, and we're good for about 5 minutes, then I smell rotten peanuts, if there's even such a thing. It was, let's say rancid peanut butter that had been splashed with some toxic acid and sitting in the sun for 14 days. It came in waves, getting stronger and stronger. The little boy sitting next to me was about 2 (I don't know, could've been anywhere from 11 months to 14 years old - kids are kids) and he had a diaper on, and he was squirming, and this lead me to believe that he was pooping himself. I just sat there and tried to breathe out of my mouth. It was difficult, and I couldn't help but thinking that I was eating the smell. You know when you're a kid, and someone farts in a group, and you plug your nose but then you need to breathe and you take a big gasp, and kids say, "gross! you're eating the fart air!" which is totally worse than smelling it!! And still, sometimes to this day I hold my breath when I drive past a cemetary. Call me crazy... and I'll slap you.

So, I was walking. Wind in my hair, sun on my face, then it wasn't because of all the tall buildings, but I still felt good. Good'ay, Monday. As I was approaching the street I turn on, there was a homeless woman, who probably made herself look as good as she could so she could panhandle on Michigan. She was wearing a semi-clean looking outfit, and her hair was pulled into a tight side half-ponytail sitting on top of her head, but she had the tell-tale smudged dirt on her face saying this isn't just a day job. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be street urchin, the scourge of society. And it made me think about living a day in the life, but that's it. It's just a day, and after that day, you get to go back to being you, and living your life. You can't live a lifetime in a day. And then it made me think of stupid(!) Tyra Banks and her fat suit day when she cried and said she knew what it felt like to be fat and to be looked at by people, and how hard it was to get around, which come on! That was a joke. Seriously?! It didn't even look real, and wow. Really, Tyra Banks, really? How did you get a television show again? Okay, you've probably got the world's best breasts, but brains and personality?! OH NO, MISS, OH NO! So then I got irritated and decided that I would never be able to be a street urchin for a day, and that I would have to try it for a week instead, and then I thought it would probably be dangerous since I was a woman and all that stupid double-standard bullshit that goes on in this society and world.