i don't know why there's a hole in the sky

Everything is gestation and then birthing. To let each impression and each embryo of a feeling come to completion, entirely in itself, in the dark, in the unsayable, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's own understanding, and with deep humility and patience to wait for the hour when a new clarity is born: this alone is what it means to live as an artist: in understanding as in creating.

-- "Letters to a Young Poet", Rilke

This weekend is unendingly, one-of-the-best-ever-ish-ly spectacular. I have essentially no responsibilities (some workshopping which is like, pfft, my future profession, and a group meeting for Comp class in half an hour), LOTS of social time with Megan and Jake and John and Eric and Aleks and Matthew and OHMYGODLOOK, I HAVE FRIENDS, lots of poetry-time (my poetry collection has been compiled and I'm submitting it to an assload of contests this week!), and fun of a sleepingoverwithmygentleman variety. The weather is amazingly beautiful. I'm better than I have been in ages, health-wise. The only thing that could have gone better has been my eating habits (really Teresa there is more to life than potatoes). But the fact that the only negative thing about my weekend is AN OVERABUNDANCE OF POTATOES should say a lot.

I think I'm going to buy House of Leaves tonight and start reading. Everyone else is doing it. And I appear to be making a habit of jumping on some pretty badass bandwagons... ;)

LOOOOOOOOOVE

Life right now is pretty great. Midterms are over, weekends more productive, my friendships with my English department people going strong. And then there's also this whole thing about the gentleman in the elevator. I start my martial arts class with the kickass (possibly literally) professor (about whom I ranted a year ago as he was making educational reforms of the 1840s the most fascinating topic ever) on Tuesday. I go clothes shopping with one of the newer amigas tomorrow.

I'm finding more and more foods edible again the past few days, after a month-long drought of not wanting to eat anything ever and fainting all over the place (that is, more than I usually do). Today at Jewel I found potato skins with cheese and bacon; fatty and starchy and delicious. These are a new culinary discovery for me; I ate BBQ chicken potato skins in St. Louis and soon I'm going to make some of my own with turkey bacon and diced tomatoes, which is the closest I'm going to get to a BLT, at least in the next ten years.

I'm increasingly excited:
about J-Term, although I'm torn between three courses,
about the gigantic strides I'm making in therapy towards understanding my bizarre unconscious mental processes,
about poetry and cuddling and jackets, for the sake of goodness what a walking cliche I am and how pleasant it is,
about talking to Matt and Megan about their wedding this spring,
about the fact that despite my usual poor health karma I have thus far not gotten H1N1 KNOCK ON WOOD I'm not superstitious but I do sort of hate to jinx myself.

I'm coming up on the three-year anniversary of penning the first words of Prentice Boys. I'm expecting I'll finish the final book over winter break. It's so strange thinking of saying goodbye to these characters. Of course, I'll probably spend most of 2010 doing edits and rewrites, some of which will include inserting entirely new sequences - there's a two- to three-chapter bit at the end of Prentice that I'm really looking forward to writing - but it's still weird to be dealing with the conclusion.

I haven't been writing to Izzy lately. In a way I think I'm afraid to capture this corner of happiness I've secured. I don't feel like pinning it down and naming it. I don't want to immortalize it as a standard I won't be able to fulfill again. That sounds a little sad when I say it, but it's immensely positive in my head: I'm living now and I'm living FOR now, and if it's helping me become the person she needs, Izzy doesn't have room to complain.

I feel absolutely incredible.

-- Opted not to go up in the Arch
--->> partially cuz I'm a cheapskate
--->> partially cuz I didn't want to celebrate the means used during the Westward Expansion

-- Fell in love with Mirah's lovely haunting song "Bones and Skin"

-- Fell in love with BBQ chicken potato skins
--->> which I wasn't allergic to YAYA

-- Fell back in love with light rails
--->> was studiously NOT a fare-dodger, OH NO

-- WROTE 42 PAGES
--->> okay 6p fanfiction, but
--->> 36 PAGES OF KEEPER, MOTHERF*CKERS, THAT'S PAGE 348 FOR YOU
--->> have remaining 2 chapters of Final Battle, and then the epilogue

-- Really liked (my mom's cousin) Margaret and (her husband) Dan and (their daughter) Hannah
--->> Continue to really like them
--->> Like their neighborhood, esp. the coffeeshop

Let's Clarify, #2:

Tomorrow (Sunday) will be National Coming Out Day. I will be writing my novel and not using the internet, so I guess I just get to come out a little early.

I'm going to preface this by saying that I am going to be very open and honest in this post. I want to educate people about all of the queer-spectrum labels with which I identify, which is going to include frank conversation about sexuality and relationships.

( I have identified as some shade of queer for seven years. )

Topic: Matthew Shepard Act / Hate Crime Laws

The House has passed the Matthew Shepard Act, which (when Obama signs it) will add sexual orientation, gender / gender identity, and disability to federal hate crime laws. Now let's clarify something.

Q: If the victim is a middle aged white male, is it a hate crime? Or are we once again getting shafted?

A: The issue with hate crimes is that people are being attacked just because they fit into a category of people, meaning the perpetrators are a danger to any and all persons of that orientation or identity. If a hetero Christian white male is attacked *just for being* hetero, Christian, white or male, it's as much a hate crime as someone being attacked for being black or female or Muslim or gay. The law recognizes that.

"Under current federal law, hate crimes that fall under federal jurisdiction are defined as those motivated by the victim’s race, color, religion or national origin.  The new measure would broaden the definition to include those committed because of gender, sexual orientation, gender identity or disability."  - http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/09/us/politics/09hate.html

It doesn't specify that these identifiers have to be minority groups. Motivated by ANY race, color, sexual orientation, gender. So yes, middle-aged white males are as protected by this law as anyone else.

Also note that not all attacks on GLBT people are hate crimes. Some are interpersonally motivated.

The law isn't saying crimes against minorities are worse than other crimes - it's saying criminals who commit crimes due primarily or solely to prejudice are more dangerous to society in the long term than those who had external motives.

This past weekend I followed through on a behavioral psychology experiment suggested by my counselor. I withheld Internet from myself, earning it back only a little at a time by doing homework and writing newspaper articles and such things. I believe it to have been a success - I didn't get everything finished I'd wanted to, but I was quite behind with my work due to having been sickish, and now I'm pretty much caught up.

This is particularly exciting because I'm going to St. Louis this weekend as a "writing retreat". My goal: to finish Keeper. Likely? No. Possible? Entirely. (I miss writing Heirs of the King. I used to be able to pound out 30+ pages (single-spaced, font size 11.5) every free weekend. Not to mention my NaNo rate, I suppose. I wonder what changed?)

( some of you don't want to hear this, lol )

This weekend was very good and VERY Chicago-y and social.

Friday Laura and Aislin and I went to Yorktown Target which was YAY.

Saturday I went into Chi early and went to the Museum of Science and Industry and bought myself a membership at last. I got a ticket to the Harry Potter exhibit, only this was at about 11a and the earliest one they had was at 9:15pm. I saw the Mysteries of the Great Lakes Omnimax show (and fell asleep during it for a couple minutes... it was about STURGEON, okay?), went and did some "short story research" by hanging out with the baby chicks, visited the Fast Forward exhibit (for the fourth time), and then took the Metra back to Millennium Station.

I hung out at Starbucks and wrote for a while, then moved up to Noodles and Co, and then texted Ali Scott (one of the '08 dormer lit kids from Perpich!) and she was FOUR BLOCKS AWAY, whereupon I visited her and we talked about the necessity of hugs and the unnecessariness of drugs and such and so. THEN she took me into the ceramics studio and showed me how to throw on a pottery wheel.

THEN I went back to MSI to the HP exhibit, which was... pretty freaking awesome, although not entirely honest in its portrayal of itself. (All the signs by the pieces were like "this was the ______ worn/used by ______ played by ________ in movie #__!!" Including a Hagrid-sized suit that they claimed was worn by Robbie Coltrane in movie #4, at which point I was just like. Um. No. Robbie Coltrane didn't wear that suit. He is not nine feet tall. Liars. And other such instances of lies.)

Got back home about 130am. By 915 Sunday morning I was back on the train and into Chicago. Spent a while trying to remember where the hell Barnes&Noble was, and then hung out and read/wrote in the children's section for an hour before going back to the tables and meeting up with Jonah again. We played the dot game where you try to make boxes but not let your opponent make boxes (you know what I mean) and then went to Harold Washington, read each other a few children's books, and went to a reading by actors from a local lit-theatre company, who read excerpts from each of the 10 most challenged books of 2008. ( You can probably guess my thoughts on literary censorship, but STILL. )

Then Jonah went home (get well soon! hope you're having a good Yom Kippur!) and I spent some time in the teen section of the Harold Washington (Library) until my train. Got home, we have INTERNET NOW YAY, was up til 3.

And back to the grindstone.

highlight: friday night on the college mall they had inflatable bouncy things, and they showed star trek on a big screen. oyestheydid.

highlight: yesterday afternoon, aislin and caleb and laura and john (her bf) and i painted our living room / dining room a beautiful cornflowery-oceanic blue (with a waist-high horizontal stripe of cream in the dining room). 95% of the time I did not feel fifth-wheely - and I feel nth-wheely the majority of my life, so that's a good thing, not a "HOMG SAD 5%" thing.

highlight: miriam, megan, kathryn, marilyn and I (OMG LOOK THE LACK OF OXFORD COMMA, NEWSPAPER HAS SPOILED ME, IT NO LONGER FEELS RIGHT TO USE OXFORD COMMAS. DOOM) went to a hookah bar last night at midnight and spent a lovely two hours smoking orange-lemon hookah and drinking smoothies/hot chocolate and talking about all sorts of things i can't even remember right now. hookah is the only substance known to give me a quick buzz, so.

highlight: my life today = the leader office. "the leader is like my own personal brand of heroin." yusssss.

highlight: texting convo with juan about the hotnesses of the heroes characters and how they can get unclothed and make out with each other all they want. also make us accordingly gay and/or straight and/or sexual. oh quinto. *hearts icon*




tl;dr : star trek outdoors, apartment-painting and non-wallflowering, hookah smoke, newspaper, zqmfs.

I went on the Honors Program new member retreat this weekend. Horseback riding !!!!, low ropes, crackerless s'mores, singing oldies (and Potter Puppet Pals) at the top of my lungs with Sarah and Theresa and one other chick. Having discussions about ethics of cultural sensitivity and health care in volatile case studies. Yes.

The discovery part:
We've already established this in part, but apparently it's not just authority figures from whom I can't handle condescension. Holy SHIT did I get inwardly pissy today. You do not know more about my own situations and decisions than I do. You do not get to jump to conclusions about what I'm saying, or to assume you know my reasoning. You do not get to tell me I'm being unreasonable when my choices have no bearing on you or ANYONE but myself. Just STOP IT. (This isn't a person on LJ, btw, so don't go trying to analyze whether this is about you. It's not, I promise.)

I wrote a bit of Rico's MegaSpeech2009 - enough that I might be able to do it in full. Which is worrisome now, considering the amount of non-novelly writing I have to do in any case. I also took some notes on how to make Celia more badass, which is necessary since she's pretty definitively established in the past year and a half that she's no fucking refrigerator woman. Good lord I have SO much editing to do when I finish book three. *facepalm*

My greatest frustration this week has been food. I need to find something that needs no refrigeration that I can bring to campus with me for meals, because this week the choices were in general, (a) pay $7-8 a meal for lunch or dinner, or (b) don't eat. Neither of which is even remotely satisfying. Food allergies + being poor + having busy days when I can't come home between classes = made of lose and failsauce. Eurgh, I'm not sure I can handle any more freaking corn tortillas.

Now to clamber over the sleeping masses of living room that compose Caleb and Aislin, and to bed.




SIDE NOTE: This icon is appropriate for EVERYTHING.

1. I am so excited to have friends; friends who invite me to things, friends who want to spend time with me, friends who save me a seat. Mostly this is my Cadenza / newspaper / English major/classes friends, but then also Juan and Laura. Friends in 3 of my 4 classes, too!

2. Dr. Ron (News Writing) intimidates me more than I would have thought. I love Dr. Lively (Fiction Writing) even more than I had remembered. Rev. Clancy (Intro to Biblical Studies) is the same person as Ms. Clancy, e.g. I work with her kids at Rec station, and Dr. Kazan is cool, although that class (Comp III, about rhetoric) may be the death of me. Martial Arts doesn't start til late October, but that's Dr. Harman, who was my favorite Ed professor last year - my only dread (besides kicking myself in the face) is telling him I'm no longer an ed major.

3. Besides homework, I am going to be consumed by: SSA, SAGE, COP, Niebuhr Center, Honors Department (retreat next weekend!), Writing Center (work), Rec Station (work), Courts Plus (work), The Leader (meetings, writing, copyediting my life away every other weekend), and Unofficial Lit-Geek Club (Harry Potter + Scrabble + writing sessions; this might turn into my clever scheme to drag my friends to my apartment once a week). I hope I'll get into a play the second half of the semester, too.

4. I really, really want an internship at a publishing house in Chicago. It won't happen this semester, but it will happen in the future.

5. I think I'm going on a weekend writing retreat to Cleveland next month?? Found $2 roundtrip Megabus tickets, so it'd just be the price of a B&B or something. Anyone wanna come...?

6. First counseling session today went really well, I think. I've already got some ideas about countering bits and pieces of my phone anxiety. I think what makes me nervous about the phone / knocking on someone's door is the unpredictability. So for people I have trouble calling, like Shannon or Grandma Betty, I just need to email / write them and let them know, "I'm going to call you at 7:00 on Friday," or whatever. That doesn't help for business calls and spontaneous calls, but whatevs.

The last week I've felt a lot sexier* when I see my reflection - less so when I'm checking my outfit than when I just happen to glance as I'm washing my hands. I think part of it is the short hair. For those of you with whom I am not in close physical proximity, I recently buzzed off my shoulder-length hair in favor of a half-inch of beautiful fuzz. I didn't do this for charity. I didn't do this to proclaim that I'm a dyke (we can get into the label-stuff later), although one of the fringe benefits of short hair is that the universe doesn't automatically assume I'm straight, 'heteronormative', whatever. It's all of a sudden a touchy subject, because put under pressure to explain my non-standard appearance, I let a large number of people believe that I chopped it off for Locks of Love. Admittedly I did put off the haircut with the intention of donating, but it wasn't long enough to donate and that wasn't my reason for doing it.

I cut my hair because I love the way it looks and the way it feels. Not having to do much to take care of it is also a fringe benefit. I never know quite how to explain this to people. I like me with short hair. When I look in the mirror and see my short-haired self, I feel more like myself than with any other 'do, and this is incredibly sexy* to me. A lot of people prefer long-haired Teresa, and sure, I like the way I look with long hair, but in a very abstract way. I like running my hands through and over my hair - I have a really sensitive scalp, so it's an almost-erotic* fixation.

So #1 on Teresa's sexy* list is Short Short Hair.

2. Comfortable jeans.
3. Self-confidence at night when it's warm outside.
4. Anything that makes me feel simultaneously creative and intelligent, and then with some element of power worked in there. Either feeling powerful, or feeling like a conduit for foreign energy. This combination usually (but not always ;D) comes into play when I'm doing seriousface writing/worldbuilding.



* When I'm using sex-implied words for myself - e.g. "sexy", "erotic", whatever - I mean them without the sexual context they sometimes (always?? not for me, so hard to tell) imply. For me, "sexy" and "erotic" are electric, full, lush, body-comfort, body-confidence, bright colors, close contact, immediate romance words - but have nothing to do with sexual organs, acts, or orgasms. I don't actually have any idea whether those of you who are sexual immediately associate "sexy" and "erotic" with sex.

BENTIME

Prisoner of Azkaban, of course.

...

Need I say more?

uhhhhhh.
Is it possible that I had a life before last week?

I'm no longer in Towson, Maryland with my fifty-plus new lovers. This is definitely a problem.

I've been a taxi.
It's unfortunate really:
I could be writing.

Theatre lockout
Didn't want my money late
I got indignant

Summer should not be
This catastrophic waiting
For school to begin

What a waste of gas
Day in day out James T Kirk
Consumes my dumb life

I hike at the lake
Sing loudly, mess up the words
Check Facebook again

Nudge my black kitten
Lie awake when I shouldn't
Scoop out some ice cream

I don't break the rhythm.

( FILM SPOILERS )



Mmmmmkay, I recommend this film as long as you go into it not expecting it to follow the book rigidly. There are some pretty big departures. I really liked these departures. Actually, they might have been my favorite scenes. But you know. It's a free agent.

I was SO excited about the whole having-enough-money-to-not-need-loans-this-year thing, and then I go online and OH LOOK, I guess it makes sense that I got extra financial aid, because Elmhurst's tuition just went up by $1270/year. I'd completely forgotten that there was a possibility of that happening. And I was going to be just barely scraping by before, so *sigh* I'm taking out the loan for first semester. Hopefully that means I can squirrel the refund money away and use it to go to Italy and Greece in the spring. And also hopefully I'll make enough this fall to not have to take out loans in the spring??

*uses the devastation icon*

I'm writing half of my Dear Readers snail-mail, but the nearest excitement on my To-Live list is Campus Pride, a queer leadership camp I'm attending at Towson University in Maryland from July 21-26. The most ongoing excitement is my novel, ofcourseofcourse. The most ongoing torture is Star Trek, to which I appear to be addicted. WTF?