disappointment

On a whim decided to go to Gounod's Faust tonight at The Orpheum Theatre in Memphis, TN. My friends were going and it sounded interesting but, to be honest, all I knew about it was that a man sells his soul to the devil. Immediately when I heard the words "soul" and "devil" I made all sorts of assumptions about how deeply mysterious and interesting it would be. My assumptions turned out to be irrelevant to the actual play and I was disappointed. It started when I had to drive in a separate car from my friends because I, unlike them, had to go to the theatre on the hope that they'd be selling tickets at the door. Got my ticket, but had to park in a different parking lot that was farther away from where my friends parked. I walked in late and got seated in the back next to a lady with a nasty cough and a teenage boy who wouldn't stop twirling his glasses between his fingers and letting out dramatic "sigh" noises.

The Orpheum Theatre is on Beale street so there was plenty of commotion: people, horse carriages, trollies, and cars. Despite the predominately African American population of Memphis, there were no African Americans dressed in fancy schnancy clothes walking into The Orpheum to see this production. Got sad because I thought about how messed up it is that races are divided in this way. The people working traffic were African American, as were the security officers. However, all the snobby people walking into The Orpheum in sparking gowns were Caucasian. I was thankful to be wearing clothes that represent "the true me," namely, jean capris, black flip-flops, and a blue, cotton, v-neck t-shirt from Banana Republic.

Felt unsure about where to go once I got into the theatre, since I had never been there before, and felt like people would judge me based on being a strong, single woman in jean capris. Thought they wouldn't accept me. I was immediately shocked that all of the actors and actresses were Caucasian except the man who played the devil, or Mephistopheles, who was African American. Could that be any more of an ignorant idea? Given the stereotypes and generalizations that exist in society, how could the directors and playwrights overlook or misinterpret the obvious problems with this dramatic organization?

Most of the arguments I make are sort of weak, in my opinion. Perhaps that is why I find it so difficult to make arguments. But that is something I should discard, since it's a break-through of my insecure self onto the stage of my secure authorial blogger self. With that, I walked back to my dorm room and got into bed.

what's it to you?

I tried not to listen to their conversation by focusing my eyes on the words on the page in the book I was reading.  I thought if I really stared at them I would process them more deeply.  I squint my eyes and look sharply at each word as I pass through the lines on the page.  It is going to make me get lost in its wonder.  The words of this genius writer were going to finally come alive inside my brain.  It was only a matter of time before these words effect my whole brain.  If I just look deep enough into the black font on the page, each part of my brain will analyze the meaning at once.  Out of this will emerge the most thorough and accurate interpretation imaginable.  The resultant thoughts are the perfect mix of judging what's here and what's just in my mind.  I'll catch all the details and expound upon the argument the author is trying to make.  It isn't as easy as I make it seem to be such a good reader.  All of this would have happened if I hadn't been distracted by the conversation next to me.  They outnumbered me by 3:1 which made my weak attempts at self-talk an epic fail.  I even stole the word epic from their conversation.

I overheard one of them making a joke to his friends about whatever seemed to pop up in his head.  He decided to make a cyberspace joke about the availability of personal information about people we know on the Internet.  For that matter, the information is available for people we do not know, as well.  Anyway, the joke was to say to his friend sitting across from him at the table something like, "Jezebel, I saw on the Rhodes network that you declared your history major."  Then, instead of stopping the weird computer stalker lingo, he continued on, reading off statistics about him, like his phone number, address, residence, year, major, and full name.  It was actually really funny and it even sounds funny when I type it out, which is always a good sign.

my bookbag's burnin'

Is it possible to be completely mute? Today I have hardly spoken at all. At lunch I learned some French and felt like I was being instructed on my mouth movements. I was being instructed on how to move my mouth. There were two aliens shaping their mouths into strange puckers of French. They were asking me to follow them onto the spaceship of puckered French lips and noises I understand when I tell jokes in English or try to make a friend laugh.

If there ever was a smallest creature, I think it would be me. I would feel the same as I do now if I was the smallest creature. Maybe when I turn 23 I'll feel like a grown-up.

I wake up everyday knowing on some level that, come midday, I'll wonder what it means to be alive. I can imagine people's responses if I were to ask them what it means to be alive. That God loves me. That I exist in space as body mass. That you are able to love. That you are an animal with a large frontal cortex.

Garbage.

Glass

I've been thinking the world is made of glass. It came to me in a dream one night as I strolled outside pulling glass flowers from glass mulch with my magnetic hand. Surprise overtook me but a moment later I put each flower back in its place. Looking around me, people were able to collect entire tree trunks and grow too tired for the limbs.  They'd leave them behind in heap on the ground.  But they would walk away much larger because the glass pebbles become a part of them.

Gravity still exists such that only humans have equal magnetic force to pick up things in the environment.  Glass pebbles are held to the ground, to each other, and to human magnetic hands.  There is variation in the extent to which these three forces pull them.  Pebble to pebble is the strongest magnetic pull.  Next are humans followed by gravity.

The glass was always the same size despite the person, animal or object.  It varied in how many pieces of glass were required to compose the object.  So every object is composed of many teeny tiny glass pebbles that are pulled together to form shapes.  Since pebble to pebble connections are the strongest, it is possible for humans to sit on glass objects like chairs.

Rain on Easter Sunday

Stayed up until early this morning painting and applying to jobs in Brooklyn, NY.  I applied to at least ten jobs last night, mostly by e-mailing them my resume, references and a subtle hint of desperation.  I refrained from telling them that I would do anything to get hired in Brooklyn and that all I want when I graduate is to go to Brooklyn.  I couldn't tell them that I would do anything to be hired but maybe it was evidence that I was applying in the early morning hours of Easter 2009.  Nobody applies for jobs at that time and, if they do, it's like an underground closet competition thing all surrounding the job search.  More than a search these days, getting a job is like going on a competitive hunt, where there are other hunters going after the same prey.  I am adamantly against hunting because it is repulsive and the work of the devil!

Woke up at noon as a result of what I said in the previous paragraph.  I didn't spend much time feeling bad about waking up so late because there was absolutely nobody moving on campus in the middle of the day.  It was the middle of the day and not a creature was stirring, probably because they were all off campus enjoying delicious Easter breakfasts with their families.  Since I clearly wasn't missing anything in my immediate vicinity, I decided to sit around my room and read Responsibility and the Moral Sentiments for Metaphysics.

Ate sushi for a late lunch around 3:30 p.m.  I'm still warming up to sushi, honestly, and given that it's pretty raw stuff it makes sense that it's something I have to grow accustomed to.  When I eat it I think how this is the closest to real eating that I'll probably ever get.  Everything in sushi is so raw and uncooked that I believe it is a more natural way for humans to eat than chomping away on Oreos.  Processed foods are tasty but I do not think they are ideal for human beings most adaptive functioning.  Especially if the goal is to live past age 30, I think taking the sushi route is a worthwhile thing to consider.

Felt comforted by the knowledge that my friends are probably back on campus now.  If not now, they will be tomorrow, and so I can return to my group who I never should have left anyway.  I regret my decision not to go to the cabin with them over the break but, at the same time, I needed my own time to think.  Sometimes I surprise myself with how shy I am when I am honest with myself.  I'm not sure I'd ever talk if I didn't have to or wasn't so crazily curious about how people are doing.  The only reason I talk is to gather information about people around me.  Is that even possible?  Am I such a unique human being that I can have the knowledge that I only speak to collect information and not for a selfish reason?  The answer is usually somewhere in the middle of my thoughts so maybe there are times when I talk just to talk and other times when I talk to eventually be in a situation where I can listen.

Vomit Trap

Figuring Things Out