Holden - A Poem

Holden


In the dusty shelving of the library, I had
an intimate love affair
acute moments of ecstasy
pressed
back to books
fingers searching
breath shortening
later, white margins filled: Mrs. Caulfield
Mrs. Holden Caulfield
scrawled in red cursive, loopy

Wow. Yay. and Finally.

:)

Dorm, Love

I'm about half way through packing up my dorm, and its been pretty bittersweet.

I love the decorations in my room:

A lot of them are magazine pictures Melissa and I found this year or drawings we made for each other or post-it note pictures. Silly things that mean a lot.

I've actually had two roommates this year. The first was my friend from high school, who dropped out after the first term, and then Melissa, who lived in the room next door, moved in with me. Both roommates were wonderful, and I'm going to be lonely this summer in a room all to myself.

My favorite things about my room this year:

10. The perpetually half-dying, half-living bamboo

9. My bobbleheads

8. Lots of Obama pictures

7. Our fish, who has had a half-million different names

6. The fruit lights

5. The mini-glow in the dark skeleton with no forearms

4. My Kevin Coval Chicago Trib article

3. My insane collection of pictures

2. Our random, werid refrigarator magnets

1. Our awesomeness essence

My Super Sappy Post about My First Year of College

Today I finished my last class of my first year in college.
This year was incredible. I made some awesome

<----------friends ---------->

I had a radio show.

With a kickass co-host.

I fell in love with feminism and started writing for a blog.

我学了中文。

I had an awesome roommate.

Who shared her family's Easter traditions

I took some classes, too. They were good.

Basically, although I had some pretty rough weeks, I had a wonderful first year.

I learned so much, which I know is the point of college. So when I say I learned so much, I mean I discovered so many new things. My friends and I debated, fought, cried, laughed (mostly), and just became family. We talked about everything from sex to Israel to enviromentalism to cafeteria food recipies to beer. Because so many of my friends are international, I won't be able to see them over the summer. I am going to miss them intensly.

But, you know what I won't miss: sharing a bathroom with 11 girls I don't really know. I won't miss walking in on shower sex or unflushed toilets. I definatley won't miss other people's hair in the drain.

But, enough with the negative. I love lists, so here are some reasons why I am excited about next year:

1. Living with all my friends!

2. Taking classes that I want

3. Learning Spanish

4. Declaring my majors

5. Meeting new kids

6. Sustainable take-out containers

7. Maybe writing for TKS

8. Decorating a whole new room

9. Not being a freshman

10. Sharing a bathroom with only 3 people

11. Not working at 7:45am

Yay.

Mexico?

So, this is kind of exciting.
My roommate is a first generation Mexican kid, and she is going back to Mexico this summer to visit her family, and she invited me to come with! Her family lives in a small, rural Mexican town called Cocaoyula, and she lived down there for a few years after she was born. This whole year she has been telling me stories about Mexico, eating iguana, killing chicken, and haggling at street markets, and now to have the opportunity to see it all myself, I am estatic.

The idea actually started because Melissa wants to collect some oral histories from her grandma and grandpa about the town, since they have lived there forever. I suggested that she try to turn it into an independent study project, and we formulated the idea from there. We want to go down this summer to get an idea of things and show our faces, and then next summer, spend a lot of time down there collecting oral histories and possibly filming a documentary.

Ah. I am psyched. Now all I have to do is ask my mom, mi madre.

love.

中国

你好。我想去中国！我想吃中国饭，看上海和北京，说中文！

So, I am dying to go to China. Here at school, I'm finishing up my first year of Chinese language instruction. Its been very challenging, and I am a little frustrated by how little I can speak (relatively, I know about 300 characters, however fluency requires about 3000), but because of my studies this year, I want to go to China so badly.

I actually just got out of a meeting about a trip to go over there, but, unfortuatnely its going to cost about 4000 dollars. While techinically I could do it, I can't justify a 10 day trip for that amount of money.

Ah, I think one of these days I'm going to just have a freak out and fly to China (pshht if your thinking about a visa, I mean, reality, who cares) and spend all my money on dumplings.

谢谢。我爱你！

Finally

Finally, I am going to begin posting here again.
The term is finally ending, and I will have a little more free time.
I took a poetry writing class this term and just turned in my final portfolio, so I feeling both relieved and saddened. So, I thought I would post one of the poems I wrote this term here:

Globalization

We couldn’t take anymore kids
with their Birkenstocks and orange tans
spouting CliffNote rhetoric about
Emily Dickinson and flies buzzing.
We couldn’t take anymore kids
popping the collar of uniform polos
and throwing down fake gang signs
from the windows of their Range Rovers.

So instead of hopping the yellow bus
we jumped a train to the city
and found ourselves in morning’s rush
briefcases and beige pantsuits
#1 MOM coffee cups and
polished shoes reflecting the headline
of their owners’ Chicago Tribune: Anti-
American Protests Continue in Afghanistan.

Outside the train station’s doors
the smell of sewer and cigarettes
spiked the oxygen in our blood.
Led to the EL by the sound of clicking heels,
we watched from the brown line window
a single file stream of briefcases on every block.
We stepped off of the EL and
stepped into a vintage Neverland.

Under the green street sign at the
intersection of Belmont and Clark
the sidewalk was filled with shoes
stitched by tiny, brown hands in Asia.
The shoes were filled with people
shouting to end war in the Middle East
and the sidewalk brimmed with
fliers that spelled Hamas Hummus.

We bought falafels and French
fries and drank Diet Coke and
watched a man harass a woman
watched a woman flinch
In the bathroom a plant hung over the sink
and on the door of the first white stall
someone had scrawled in red sharpie ink
“this is this and that is shit.”

As darkness fell neon rose,
and we wandered to the train station
passing bums layered in plaid shirts
collecting change in front of Neiman Marcus
passing skinny kids dressed like bums
carrying Neiman Marcus bags.
On the train we watched a man
drink whiskey out of a paper bag.

On the train we talked about
last week’s calculus test.

Hiccups

I have the hiccups. I hate the hiccups. Actually, I think I hate the hiccups more than I hate most other things. They are distracting, annoying, and kind of hurt.
Hm. I wonder if they are a legitimate reason for missing class.
Hm. Hm.

Procrastination Nation Station is my Destination

According to my astronomy book:

"Eccentricity is a quantity that describes the amount by which an ellipse is stretched compared to a perfect circle. A circle is an ellipse with zero eccentricity."

A few of my eccentricities include:

1. Uneven arm lengths

2. The ability to roll only one side of my tongue

3. Far larger that average shoe size

4. The ability to make my room messy just a few hours after its cleaned

5. An unhealthy obsession with Obama's sexiness

6. A penchant for making lists

I'm glad I'm not a perfect circle.

(Suzie, my elliptical friend, and me)

Soggy Monday

It is Monday morning, it is raining, and I am not happy.

Mostly I hate Monday because its the beginning of five days of class, work, and responsibilities. This term I hate Monday because I work at 7:45am and don't have class until noon. Today I hate Monday because it is pouring and my pants are wet.

You see, I always check weather.com before I get dressed, and today it told me 66 degrees and rain, later in the day. So I put my clothes on and go to work, and then two hours later I leave work and walk into a huge storm. I am not wearing appropiate footwear and my shoes, hair, jeans, and hoodie are immediately soaked. I HATE weather.com.

Now, I have to write an introduction paper for my poetry class tonight, and I have to include three unusual things about myself. I have no idea what I am going to say is unusual about me. Hm.

Anyway, sorry for the annoyed blog post, I had to vent my wet frustration and my roommate is still asleep.

Kids Killing Kids

My roommate showed me this story last night. At first we thought it was a mock news story, like The Onion, because it seemed so crazy, but its sadly not.

Apparently, violence has broken out across Mexico against "emo" kids. This subset of youth culture has been experiencing increasing harassment and violence, often tormented by other Mexican youths, often those associated with "punk" and "metal" music.

The underlying problem seems to be homophobia. Many people in Mexico still feel very uncomfortable with homosexuality, and due to the "feminine" hair and make-up worn by many Mexican "emo" kids, the group is become associated with homosexuality. "Detesto a los emosexuales," (I hate emosexuals) was posted on a youth website. Because emosexual is wordplay on homosexual (especially in Spanish because of the silent 'h'), the underlying problem has become more and more clear.

This is especially heart-wrenching, I feel, because it is kids hating other kids. The youth should be united, has to be united in order to change the world. Under Mexico's corrupt government, it is especially important that the youth be organized, that they care for each other. To let something as unimportant as sexual orientation, or supposed sexual orientation, to prevent a revolution, a safer world, a fairer government is...

"Why are all the kids killing each other?" - Kevin Coval

This is Terrifying

OMG.

I Love

Suprises!

And tomorrow we're going to pull one off yay.

I can't wait. Yay. Yay. Yay.

Chinatown

Today I went to Chinatown with my friends Anna and Avi.

It was pretty exciting because I got to speak a little bit of 中文。

But, it was also overwhelming because I realized how little I really know.

I loved it though.

Okay. I'll Admit It.

Once in a while I actually like coming home to the suburbs.

Like now, when I can sit on my front step, writing my last paper, drink coffee.

I am trying to fool myself into thinking it is not too cold to be in my barefeet.

But it is. I'm in my barefeet. But wearing a scarf and gloves.

Oh, well, its actually really nice out here.

I like my front yard.

That's my sister and her friend, you can ignore them. Just admire the scenery.

I make bad decisions.

I have a paper due at 10:30am tomorrow.
I have known about this paper for 9 days.
It is only 5 pages long.
I have been working on it for 11 hours.
I only have two pages done.

THAT IS RIDCULOUS.

I am the worst procrastinator.
I nap.
I eat.
I blog.
I play pool.
I have a beer.
I watch a movie.
I do silly internet surfing.
I do not write philosophy paper.

ARGH.

Yay.

My friend Amelia asked me to be a contributor to her feminist blog: Female Impersonator!

Her blog is a baby, but its still pretty fantastic, and I am very excited to be its co-surrogate mother.

It is named after our radio show, which got its name from a quote by Susan Brownmiller: "All women are female impersonators to some degree." Meaning that it takes a lot of work to be what society views as a woman or feminine. Such as diets, makeup, hair, shoes ect. Even though, when I wear my pjs to class, I am still technically a woman, I am not viewed as a woman. Its a pretty fantastic, thought provoking quote, so I am so glad she adopted it to her blog as well as our radio show.

So yep. Awesome-ness.

International Women's Day

So, Saturday was International Women's Day, which I unfortunately did not realize until Sunday, so I didn't do anything to celebrate.

Or did I?

Well, I got to thinking about what I did do on Saturday and how it could be related to a celebration of International Women's Day. On Saturday, I got up around 9 to read a book for my African American Women Writer's literature class, finished it, and then worked on my final Chinese memorization. I went to lunch in the caf and chatted with my friends. I did a little more studying and went to dinner with my girlfriends at a Mexican restaurant in town. Then we all came back to my roommate's and my dorm and played Apples to Apples and creeped around on Facebook. And then we parted ways; I did a little more reading and went to sleep.

I, obviously, did a lot of homework on Saturday. I worked towards my education, a wonderful privilege that I would mostly likely not have had 100 years ago. I am so thankful that I am even allowed to get an education, but to be at a college that I choose, in classes I want to be in, taught by brilliant female professors, and in solidarity with my female classmates, who outnumber my male classmates in every room is incredible. Then to have great female friends to joke and laugh with, who support each other, care for each other, and grow together is so lucky.

However, it sadly isn't this way all over the world. Of young illiterate people in the world, women constitue 2/3 of them. Women, both in America and abroad, are shamed into ignorance about their bodies. The right of women to control their reproductive functions is in danger. Women are still raped as stolen property in war. Women are still raped in marriage by friends, relatives, and strangers. Young girls' are sexualized in the media. Female genital mutilation is commonplace in some African communities. Girls are consistently denied education in regions of the world.

Although, I did miss International Women's Day, March is Women's Herstory Month, so please take the time to educate yourself on women's issues in the United States and in other areas of the world.

By the Way

Btw, I hate finals.

Today I Learned...

How to sew!

Yep. My roommate taught me how to do some simple stitching, and my backpack is now adorned with six patches from my travels.

And I only pricked myself twice. Yay.

Ciao

Today I feel like writing about Italy.

They like motorcycles in Italy:

They also like wine, as do I. Basically, Italy was amazing. Tonight, I think I'm going to write about Florence. I went to Florence about a year ago on a school sponsored trip, and discovered Florence was the most breathtaking place. It was truly like breathing in a painting.

It was a drizzling lightly when we got to Florence, so we all pulled out our umbrellas and walked through the winding alleys of the city. The whole city smelled like cigarettes and leather; Florence is famous for its leather craftsmen (artisans?). The alleys were criss-crossed with cobblestone and motorcycles are parked sporadically. The women were all wearing pashminas, as soft as clouds, with thick leather jackets and the men (oh, Italian men) were just as beautiful.

We went to lunch at a small restaurant and drank red wine and had some fantastic pizza. We joked with the waiter, and he politely laughed off our terrible attempts at ordering in Italian.

After finishing our meal, we went to a leather store, and, since I was a little tipsy, I rationalized spending a hundred euros on a beautiful leather purse.

Then we saw 'The David' by Michelangelo. Seeing 'The David' was one the most awe-spiring moments of my life. Firstly, the statue is giant. Its simple mass is breathtaking, and the detail is magnificant. Michelangelo completed 'The David' in only two years, and it got me to thinking of what I could accomplish in two years. I realized that art is a true experience.

After we left the exhibit, we walked out into the sudden sunshine, and people watched in the square. Florence is truly the Mecca of beautiful, young people. There were so many simply gorgeous men and women in the city. Walking along the river and breathing in the moment, laughing with my friends, and taking pictures truly captured the experience.

I saw so much in Florence, and I know I missed just as much. I can't wait to go back.

I Blame My Mother

For my small obsession with Helen Keller.

And when I say obsession I don't mean anything creepy or weird. But, I swear, "The Miracle Worker" partly defined my childhood, simply by the mass of times I saw it. And watched my mom cry at pivotal 'water' scene.

And then I saw this 'newly discovered rare picture' of Helen Keller on CNN today:

Yep. That is Helen Keller and Annie Sullivan. Interesting?

Yeah. Probably not. But, I mean everyone enjoys Helen Keller to some extent, whether it be through Apples to Apples or a simple well placed refrence. So, once again, Helen, you are implanted into our pop culture.

Congrats.

Today is Tuesday...

..."Critical Tuesday" according to some news outlets.

And as of 7:19, Obama has taken Vermont.

Yay Obama. So, full discourse, I have a MAJOR crush on Obama.

I met him last year at a 'town meeting' in Washington DC, and had the chance to ask him about global warming. While I don't actually remember his answer, [I was too starstruck to take it in] people said it was excellent. And he called me young lady.

So, as of right now, Obama has the lead in Texas. Now, I don't understand how he has 62% of the vote with 0% of precincts reporting. How do they figure it out??

So. I will probably blog a little bit more later about the results tonight, but I will leave you with a picture that I adore:

ps. You should check out this excellent feminist blog my friend Amelia just started.

Poem

we leaned/ hard/ against their walls/ he and i
sharing/ a breath/ a cigarette
imprinting red lipstick on the end
discarding red lipstick on his mouth
but he wiped it gone/ until his lips bled
redder then before

Well.

Total honesty: I forgot about you, blog. But, I am back. Writing about nothing, as usual.
I am still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. Lately, all I can think about is travel. My friend and I have a very, implausible life plan which involves travelling around the world and writing as we go; he wants to write screenplays, I want to write short stories and poetry. We actually have a list of places we want to go, in order:
1. India
2. Spain
3. The Netherlands
4. Scotland
5. Switzerland
6. China
So, that is my big life dream. And I am far from accomplishing it here in my small town college. But, its okay, because it is motivation to see the world one day.
And I've done a pretty good job so far. I've been to Spain, France, Italy, Germany, England, and Canada. Italy was my favorite, honestly, but all the countries are pretty incomparable. Not that I'm an expert or anything. So, also, that is why my blog has the name 'The Wanderlust Kid.' Btw.
Yay.

Genesis, I suppose

As is the start of every great thing, I am beginning my blog out of procrastination and hunger.
You see, every time I start to procrastinate on a paper or studying, I start to eat. And I don't have any appealling food in my dorm right now, so maybe this will distract me.

At the moment I am trying to be distracted from a paper on a short story by Zora Neale Hurston. The story was good, the paper will probably not be.

So, lately I have been having a lot of conversations about getting old. I am eighteen years old. Which, I know is, relatively, young. But to me it feels very old. I have been on this planet for eighteen years. And I have done nothing, relatively. I have gotten through high school and landed myself in a college. I've travelled a little and talked a lot, but I haven't really made an imprint yet. Or a lasting one. Oh how very philisophical [sic] for an introduction. Please continue reading this blog and don't be offput by the lame metaphorical air. Please.

Sometimes I Feel Lame

Sometimes I feel lame. I live [part-time, college-time] in a town full of trains. The kind of town where train whistles are an acceptable measure for telling time. Its a pretty small town, with not a lot to do. Most people get drunk a lot. Sometimes they yell really odd things when they are walking by the dorms. Once in a while, they wake me up.

But its okay. I like my college enough. And I like my friends more. Although, I like the idea of college more than the actual practice of it. I am a little antsy most of the time. Even a little angsty sometimes. So, sometimes I write poems. They can be a little emo, but I do try to avoid it.

I started smoking again this weekend. It was probably a bad idea, but it gives my hands something to do. I never know what to do with my hands when I talk to people.

Today is Sunday. Sunday night. Sunday night at 10:30. I wish I could go to sleep. My dorm is about 150 degrees. My eyes are kind of burning, and I have to keep putting on chapstick so my lips don't crack. The heat is making me sleepy. But I have a paper to write. I really don't know why I chose and English major.