radio silence around here: a sisterly visit, an orchestra concert, birthday celebrations, last week of classes, finals soon, and home very soon.
two days ago:
a writing circle in a beautiful apartment with our favorite song lyrics, “bless her cotton socks,” candles, hummus, and apples.
yoga in the afternoon with warm light in the window, guitars and harmonizing and poetry and hugs in the evening with a few of my favorite people.
essay writing in my favorite spot in the library.
I’m a snoozer; I will almost always set my alarm about half an hour earlier than I have to get up so I can hit the snooze button five or six times and wake up slowly. I find this half awake time is really good for sleepy meandering thoughts, unfiltered and slow enough to actually get somewhere.
This morning, it was about this brilliant article, about sexuality and virginity, and how maybe talking about that is the same thing as feminism. Particularly, this quote:
“The radical feminist within me feels the need to constantly debunk whatever title it is that I am expected to embody in any given moment.”
In my religion class today, we were talking about liminality, about the process of moving from one time of life to the next and those fleeting moments in the middle, when one belongs neither here nor there. Our professor mentioned that maybe, just maybe, these four years in college are liminal in and of themselves, the space in between high school and real life – and while I love that neat little box, I love the idea of transition, I also think it undermines the permanence of this place and these four years. It’s easy to feel temporary in college – terms fly by, and all of a sudden it’s time for new classes, a new dorm, new friends – and graduation.
But the people here aren’t temporary, the relationships and friendships and thoughts aren’t in the middle of something bigger and better; they hold so much meaning in and of themselves. There is a sense here of change, of a move away from apathy and a suggestion of a thought revolution, of creative art and performance and words reshaping our muddy green.
I’ve been in quite the euphorically happy mood this last week (the same kind of high I got after playing the coda of the last movement of Beethoven’s 7th in rehearsal last night), and it’s because of the people, the love and affection and warmth and passion and care they have for our little bubble here. The vulnerabilities that we are all, suddenly, willing to share – they debunk our labels, our normal titles of frat bro or athlete or this major or that a cappella group.
And I love that. I love getting to know people, I love peeling back the layers to see the happinesses and the sadnesses and the euphorias and the hysterias.
So, a bit of warmth and love and happiness for your weekend, a bit more kickass feminism, in whatever form that means for you, and a bit of Beethoven’s 7th for good measure.
running into two friends at lunch and laughing over tomato soup about songwriting, their ex-girlfriends, and Les Mis.
Snow! There’s snow! There’s lots of snow!
Lots and lots of snow to throw!
You can throw it if you’re cold,
You can throw it if you’re old,
You can throw it if you’re young
You can throw it with your tongue!
You can throw it on The Green,
You can throw it at your dean!
If in the BEMA you get lost,
Throw your snow at Robert Frost!
At midnight there will be a fight!
A snowball fight this very night!
Come jump and shout and sing and dance!
Come put snow down someone’s pants!
Come and throw some snow with me,
You will like it, you will see!