They Got it Right!

I didn't think they'd get it right!

You Are Likely an Only Child

At your darkest moments, you feel frustrated. At work and school, you do best when you're organizing. When you love someone, you tend to worry about them. In friendship, you are emotional and sympathetic. Your ideal careers are: radio announcer, finance, teaching, ministry, and management. You will leave your mark on the world with organizational leadership, maybe as the author of self-help books.

The Birth Order Predictor

Orange!

Your Hair Should Be Orange

Expressive, deep, and one of a kind. You pull off "weird" well - hardly anyone notices.

What's Your Funky Inner Hair Color?

Yay Big Willy!

Your Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence

You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well. An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly. You are also good at remembering information and convicing someone of your point of view. A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary. You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator.

What Kind of Intelligence Do You Have?

Yes, I Was Exactly This Sultry, Too.

Clearly, everyone was right. The boys were intimidated. Maybe the girls too.

Arty Kid

Whether you were a drama freak or an emo poet, you definitely were expressive and unique. You're probably a little less weird these days - but even more talented!

Who Were You In High School?

Thank You, BlogThing, I Feel Much Better Now...

Now if I can just finish the goddamn applications...

Should I say goddamn when I'm applying to programs in Religion?

You Should Get a PhD in Liberal Arts (like political science, literature, or philosophy)

You're a great thinker and a true philosopher. You'd make a talented professor or writer.

What Advanced Degree Should You Get?

Anyone Want to Play with Me?

Found this in Morgan's blog and it looks fun. I promise to ask exciting questions (at least I hope to) and to answer honestly (or lie in a fun and obvious way, if you prefer) when you ask me questions.


Here are the rules:

1 -- Leave a comment, saying you want to be interviewed.
2 -- I will respond; I'll ask you five questions.
3 -- You'll update your journal with my five questions, and your five answers.
4 -- You'll include this explanation.
5 -- You'll ask other people five questions when they want to be interviewed.

I Like Eggs Better When I'm Not One.

...and I figured I'd just go crazy and publish 4 times in one day. Except now it's several days later, but I think it will still post in the other day. And even if it doesn't, it will still make 4 times today, I think.

When I was very, very small, I had a dream, one of the first dreams I remember. I was standing on a stage, and there were cool lights shining on the stage, but I had no awareness of an audience. Rather there was a sort of echoing emptiness all around. On the stage with me were enormous, pastel colored eggs. I knew that there were other people like me in those eggs, and that it was time for them to hatch and come out, or they would rot inside. I tried to wake them up, and get them to come out, but they wouldn't. I don't know if I was frightened, but I was alone. At the same time, I knew that I had done what I needed to do. That dream has never really left me, and I've found it many times since.

When I first saw the Matrix, in the scene where Neo realizes what is going on and sees all the little pods that everyone is "sleeping" in.

And now this, which I just stumbled upon... if the religious language is kind of a block, try it anyway... it still says what it says:

That scripture where Jesus says, “You should be perfect, even as your Father in Heaven is perfect” kind of makes me squirm a little bit. So we interpret it to mean “mature,” or something doesn't require anything quite as radical as “perfect.”

But Jesus was pretty radical, actually. I think he’s talking about the whole change. C.S. Lewis had a good illustration; he said, “It’s hard for an egg to turn into a bird, but it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while it was still an egg!”

And for now, we’re like eggs, and we can go on indefinitely just being an ordinary decent egg. OR, we can turn to Jesus to perfect us and make us into radically different people.

We have to be hatched... or go bad.

Right now I feel confined, and I don't know quite why, or by what. I feel like I panic much more easily than I should, that there's a basic unease moving around inside of me. I don't think I should panic over little things like... well, one day it was just walking home. Or the GRE, or the mice in our house, or grad school... I don't know about being at work, about this job. I seem to be anxious and unproductive here. But then, I feel that way almost everywhere.

Is it time to hatch? Why? Where am I going?

I want to be certain of something, and wrap my hand around it.

Contest Results!

Well, I've clearly become utterly addicted to posting, but I just had a good idea for the contest several entries ago:

Rachel and Katie: since you are the only ones that played, you both win!

But... since neither of you got it 100% correct, you have to share your prize.

So... without talking to the other one, post as a comment or tell me what you want me to write... and I will try my best to come up with something that fits both criteria, without being totally ridiculous!

I think it should be fun.

Yes, I Think This is About Right

You Are a Seeker Soul

You are on a quest for knowledge and life challenges. You love to be curious and ask a ton of questions. Since you know so much, you make for an interesting conversationalist. Mentally alert, you can outwit almost anyone (and have fun doing it!). Very introspective, you can be silently critical of others. And your quiet nature makes it difficult for people to get to know you. You see yourself as a philosopher, and you take everything philosophically. Your main talent is expressing and communicating ideas. Souls you are most compatible with: Hunter Soul and Visionary Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

Help Me Remember This One, or, I Hate Mice and the GRE

This was going to be just a basic rant about how much I hate the mice in our apartment, and the fact that I have to take the English GRE tomorrow. Also, I'm more and more convinced that I need to go to grad school, and I'm more and more terrified and having mental blocks all over the place with the actual process thereof.

1. I never agreed with my mom that mice are scary, but they're starting to really startle and annoy me. Also, I feel like it must be my fault that there are so many of them, and I want to keep things cleaner but I feel overwhelmed.

2. The English GRE sucks hippodick in a variety of nauseating ways.

3. I'm really scared of grad school.

But the thing is, I just found this quote in somebody's profile:

Stress is an ignorant state.
It believes that everything is an emergency.
Nothing is that important.
-Natalie Goldberg, author & writing instructor

I love Natalie Goldberg, and I think this is true. Such a gentle way to put it... stress is an ignorant state. We take it for granted that everyone is going to be stressed, that is natural to be stressed, part of our society or our lives or our "human condition." I want to stop and think about this one.

Stress is an ignorant state.

It believes that everything is an emergency.

Nothing is that important.

Some Lovely Quotes from Mark Twain

So... we're getting this one-man show called Mark Twain Tonight, and Hal Holbrook, the actor, has been doing this show for 50 years! Anyway, in the course of trying to come up with promotions, I found these gems...


Statesmen will invent cheap lies, putting blame upon the nation that is attacked, and every man will be glad of those conscience-soothing falsities, and will diligently study them, and refuse to examine any refutations of them; and thus he will by and by convince himself that the war is just, and will thank God for the better sleep he enjoys after this process of grotesque self-deception.
- "Chronicle of Young Satan"

Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.
- Following the Equator

Each man is afraid of his neighbor's disapproval--a thing which, to the general run of the human race, is more dreaded than wolves and death.
- "The United States of Lyncherdom"

We grant God the possession of all the qualities of mind except the one that keeps the others healthy; that watches over their dignity; that focuses their vision true--humor.
- Notebook, 1902

And my favorite:

But who prays for Satan? Who in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most, our one fellow and brother who most needed a friend yet had not a single one, the one sinner among us all who had the highest and clearest right to every Christian's daily and nightly prayers, for the plain and unassailable reason that his was the first and greatest need, he being among sinners the supremest?
- Mark Twain's Autobiography

On Leaving the Nest

Sometimes it catches you off-guard,
on an updraft when your wings are tired,
you remember the feeling of a whole tree to explore.
Hopping from one place to the next felt
like freedom enough.

And it was enough. I was a chestnut
robin with a scarlet front, I was a
red-winged blackbird, they are always
magic. I was a dragon, hot and full of
scales. I was something
else, leaving behind the old skin, the old
memory self.

Weeping and fighting
through the night will express
demons. You can find the
clensing in the cold new light
of dawn, seen with eyes tired and
relieved, in the sudden chirping
surreally floating through the window screen.

There was a hawk we used to see,
circling above the towers and the
wind-snapped flags and the tall
yellow-leaved branches. We did not
know, we did not know, or we pretended
not to know, that we someday would have to be the
hawks, circling solitary on strong broad wings, in the
endless pale blue, looking back down on the towers
and the spirit-laden flags and the tall pencil-thin
branches. Hunting now, for our own meat
with our own claws, and never mind the
stench, the stench was ours.

It is a fearful thing
to hold yourself cheaply,
sitting in a room full of truth, and
yet when she tells me this is what I've done,
I believe her for the fierceness in her tears.
All my perceptions are upside-down, and I do
not know, I do not know, I pretend not to
know, this is because I am now
flying. All the secrets that I tell
or keep cannot change the simple fact
of strong, sore, new, uncertain wings.

I thought the grief was over but perhaps
I am now strong enough to live with it
beside me. What sparrow does not want to
cast itself into the sky, and see that it has always been
an eagle? This one, this one, only you and I
and everyone that breathes. Oh God, how is it
you have made me a pheonix, when all the other girls
are peacocks, pigeons, and nightengales? I want to
be like and with and one of. I want to stay curled
in a little home of sticks and hair and books and
passageways. I want to stop but I am already
in the sky, and I have eaten meat that I
have hunted, from lives which I have gracefully
taken, as I was meant and built
to do.

Thing is, I went to Bryn Mawr
and it hurt me. And it was not
my home. Not
now.

I Know These Are MUCH More Interesting To Me Than To Anyone Else, but You Can Take it Too.

Found this in Nathaniel's Blog.

Two Names You Go By
1. Becky
2. James

Two Parts of Your Heritage
1. Irish Catholic
2. German Lutheran (I feel like my mom would be sad if I didn't also say Italian even though it didn't fit in with the contrast-making!)

Two Things That Scare You
1.Being attacked by people I pass outside at night, mostly men.
2. That I'm going to suddenly go irrevocably and cosmically wrong with my life path, and therefore sacrifice all happiness and acheivement forever.


Two of Your Everyday Essentials

1. A satisfying lunch
2. A little time to read

Two Things You Are Wearing Right Now
1. Cool brown and blue suede boots with manageable heels. (Arguably the most attractive and stylish footwear that I own, being that I own very little.)
2. Brown skirt that is tighter than it used to be, which fact I am not fond of.

Two of Your Favorite Bands or Musical Artists
1. Gogol Bordello! Gypsy punk!
2. William Finn (not really a band or a musical artists, but related to music and a favorite)

Two Things You Want in a Relationship
1. A place for my spirit to be free and my imagination to be fed.
2. Sex-- at the right time and in the right way and when I'm sure it's a good idea... but also with a sort of wanton and consuming passion. Hmm.

Two Truths
1. The world can be incredibly frightening, dangerous, and savage. Which sometimes I believe, and sometimes I don't.
2. To (perhaps quote, perhaps paraphrase) Julian of Norwich: All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well. Which sometimes I believe, and sometimes I don't.

Two of Your Favorite Hobbies
1. Theater of any stripe except certain mainstagey weird stripes that pretend to be stripes but are actually polka dots.
2. Singing-- I miss it.

Two Things You Want Really Badly
1. To be a published writer.
2. To understand my direction in life and be at peace about it.

Two Places You Want to go on Vacation
1. India
2. Canada

Two Things You Want to Do Before You Die
1. Visit every continent at least once (including Antarctica!)
2. Walk in beauty every day. And go into space. Both are difficult, but worthwhile.

Two Ways that you are stereotypically a Chick/Guy
1. Wonderful and circuitous language skills.
2. Confusion about all things mechanical, or which have to be manually assembled.

Two Things You Normally Wouldn't Admit
1. What people think of me matters to me way too much (taken from Nathaniel because he's right)
2. I think about sex, my own sexuality, and tie myself in knots over real or imagined attractions more than I would EVER say. And I get very jealous about such matters.

Two Things You Are Thinking About Now
1. How to promote a Christmas Carol at Thanksgiving.
2. If anyone other than the people I know about actually reads this journal... and whether I want them to.

Two Stores You Shop At
1. A Garland of Letters
2. The Last Word (I'm picking the cool sounding favorites, not the grocery store and stuff)

Two people I would like to see take this quiz
1. Rachel
2. Katie (Because they will read it)

Two people I haven't talked to in a while
1. Cristina (and I really should because I'm head over heels about her being in Philly)
2. Kirstin (and I really should because I'm head over heels about her being in Pennsylvania)

Oh, What a Beautiful Morning...

The universe is trying to make it pax. The series of more or less unforntunate events that was my week has suddenly blossomed into a morning of wonder and intrigue.

Well, it started as a morning of really, really not wanting to get out of bed. And then really, really not wanting to leave the house. So I left late. And I couldn't even seem to move more quickly down the street to make up for it.

But then, as I shuffled on down the road, I saw two dollars lying on the ground, so I picked them up. I walked a few more feet, saw a five dollar bill, and picked it up. I walked a few more feet, and saw the back half of a card, and picked that up. The printed part of the card said: We don't need no stinking candy! Happy halloween. The hand-written part of the card said: What these people need is a good photographer, who can capture the faces w/out the beer bottles! Thanks again for everything. Small contribution towards new raincoat included. And it's signed some illegible name that might be Shirley or Ashley somethingorother. I looked and looked, but I could not find the front half of the card nor the envelope.

About a block down the road, I found a small stiff-paper tag, and picked it up. It said: "It's my birthday. Who's buying?" And it had a big beer mug pictured on the front. So, despite it being a different holiday, I kept it because the alcohol reference related to the card. And I went on my merry way.

Then, as I passed some bit of Penn's campus, I glanced at one of the poles they have there, which are basically these largish things tacked all over with announcements of every kind, and I saw something that looked familiar. I got closer and there it was-- the paper said "In Trousers." IT WAS AN AUDITION ANNOUNCEMENT FOR WILLIAM FINN'S IN TROUSERS!!! If anyone is reading this who does not know what that is, it is the first installment of the Marvin musicals, wonderful musicals by the most witty and wonderful and brilliant composer cum lyricist ever, William Finn. (Ok, I don't know if he's really the most brilliant composer ever-- but I love him the most!) And, because I had picked up that tag, I had something on which to write all the information! It turns out it's being done by this group at Penn, Front Seat Productions, and the auditions are tonight and tomorrow, which means I could totally go tomorrow and do some awesome song and impress them with my love for the show and play Trina and be the happiest person in the world! Except... the website says they are a "student-run theater company." Having had some experience with such companies, it seems to me that they usually only include, well, students. Moreover, students of that particular university. And I am neither. Could I pretend to be a Penn student for two months, among a group of people all of whom are actual Penn students??? I know the answer is probably no.... but I am so tempted. AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH IN TROUSERS WILLIAM FINN MARVIN I LOVE YOU AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The fact remains, that no matter what, I will get to see this show. I am so happy!

And, the one day I didn't get to stop for breakfast since I started that trend on... well, Tuesday... Donna or someone brought in bagels and cream cheese! And there were onion bagels, which I wanted all week, but they don't have onion bagels at Cosi.

I feel loved!

P.S. If you have any ideas about how I can pretend to be a Penn student for two months amongst real Penn students while holding my job and not get caught... please come forward. I will give a prize to whomever gives me a suggestion that works. A really good prize.

P.P.S. I will also give a prize to anyone who can recognize all of the allusions in this entry. There are four. Two are easy, one is so-so, and one is hard. In fact, the hard one is so hard I will give you a hint. It only counts as an allusion if you read a certain book at a time when you were a young child and did not know any British expressions, and therefore irrevocably associate this phrase with the book. Also, they are all toward the beginning of the entry, and all parts of the entry count. To play, leave a comment indicating what the allusions are and to what they allude. If you're right, I will write something for you. Anything you want. A poem... a story... an erotic spanking story (because there's a rumor I'd be good at that)... even a fanfiction! And I will post this piece of work right here on my journal, or, if you prefer, save it for your eyes only. :-D So, assuming that I have readers, PLAY!

Ghosties and Ghoulies and Long-Legged Beasties

And things that go bump in the night.

This post could be so many things. I'm waiting to see what is actually going to come out of me. Because I feel that I could be philosophical, or wildly angry, or just tired. Perhaps I'll have a shot at all of them.

First, I think, the anger. Yesterday anger was definitely my deadly sin of choice. First of all, Septa is certainly aptly named, if by Septa we wish to refer to a sort of sluggish and fetid septic system: it is irritating and it stinks, but you'd sure as hell rather it worked (in its own inimitable way) than not at all. And I DO NOT want to pay the normal amount for my transpass, and then have to pay all kinds of taxi charges and walk my legs off anyway because the train and the LUCY whatever don't actually run at the right times or take me where I want to go. But I don't know if I can keep getting up at 7 AM to get to work by 9. I mean, there were ways in which it was nice today, but I'm really tired now and it's only 10 AM, and because of the show I will have to be here for about 12 more hours. Same for the walk home- generally I like it, but sometimes I like to get home and start dinner BEFORE 8 PM. Septa: YOU DO NOT STAND UP TO THE TIGER. YOU SUCK HIPPODICK. PLEASE WORK AGAIN, OR FOR THE FIRST TIME.

Then, the CREEPY FUCKING NEIGHBORS. The CREEPY FUCKING NEIGHBORS decided to decorate their CREEPY FUCKING HOUSE for Halloween with a carefully detailed assortment of bloodied and mutilated baby dolls, complete with bloody handprints all up the front columns of the house and little nooses in the trees. Fucking gross, tasteless, creepy, and disturbing. I began to cringe from passing the damn place. But, at the same time, it is their house and they can, I suppose, decorate it as they please, whether or not I find it acceptable or pleasant. Granted, I don't actually feel this way... of course, I wanted to take all their baby dolls away and paint flowers and rainbows across their windows (in a vindictive kind of way). But I do understand what is the law of the land, and it makes sense to me. So I, while not accepting their decorations as such, was prepared to live in peace. However, I'm coming home from work... after a LONG day, with irritations that may be described hereafter... and I am hungry, and I've been walking for about an hour and forty-five minutes (see above re. Septa). And I see this crowd of people outside the CREEPY FUCKING HOUSE, having, apparently, a CREEPY FUCKING PARTY. Except at first I just thought it was a party. I even felt more kindly disposed toward them... I thought, hey, they're just having a Halloween party like everybody else, obviously they just got... carried away with the babies, and probably they are normal human beings after all. The I see this man in a creepy staring mask, walking up and down the sidewalk, dragging his shovel behind him so it scrrrrrapes all along the cement, then scrrrraping it back the other way. I don't know what the man is doing. At first I do not suppose it has reference to me. (I'm not sure why I'm switching tenses wildly in this narration, but please forgive as I do not feel like going back and making it all consistent.) Then, as I get closer, he starts following me down the sidewalk. I saw his creepy blank staring leering face entirely too close to mine, and I heard his shovel dragging and scraping along behind me even when I refused to look back, and it made me shudder and put my hand to my face, and I was sooooooooooooooooo angry at him for frightening me. I was a little electric bundle of anger and fear. Right before I went in my own building, I saw this man carrying a garbage bag coming toward me out of the shadows and my whole body tensed. It was a nice old Asian man, smiling at me as he brought out his trash! But my body did not believe.

Then Rachel came home and I gave her a violet plant and a card for our cohabitation anniversary, and we decided to go to the Indian buffet because they would have dinner ready right away and that is what we required at that time. So... back out the door, back down the street, and as we got close to the CREEPY FUCKING HOUSE I began to hear that scrape scrape scraping again and I saw the masked man was still going up and down the sidewalk. He started following close to Rachel and I as we passed, and this time we were hedged in on the other side by a man in a red demonic mask leering up at us too. The blankness of the masks was the most horrible thing about it. The fact that I could not tell where their real faces began, that they could see my whole, real face with my feelings on it and all I could see of them was leering, malevolent rubber. I felt such malice, from them and toward them. I was so hungry! I wanted to scream obscenties at them in a way I have never done. I walked a bit faster, and when I turned my head and saw the red mask right beside my face, tilted in ill-intended curiosity, it was more than I could take. I don't really know how it happened, but I felt something break inside of me and suddenly I was charging down the street away from them, not running but marching as fast as I could, getting away. I walked like this until I was halfway down the next block I was trembling deep inside with anger. Anger was all I could feel, and tension, and nerves, and a terrible boiling rage with only the lid of my skull to keep it inside me. I kept marching all the way to the restaurant. Ocassionally I felt my mouth stretch in a strange nervous/bitter parody of a smile, the social-ness of my self breaking through, the feelings breaking through in a way they knew was appropriate. But mostly... tension, anger, anger, anger, tension, fear, anger, anger, rage. This wholly hot and consuming, absorbing rage, and so much tension that I flinched when a man in a doorway lit up a cigarette, the flame flashing into its small life pulling some string inside of me. I could not calm down. I could not stop feeling it, though somehow I knew that it was my choice to feel it. How both of those things could be true I don't know. When I could finally speak I began to rant about what they had done, this harrassment, how they had no right to follow me and frighten me... and Rachel said, "They're just idiots, it's Halloween." And I heard my voice passionate and trembling, rage and tears bundled and wound up inside it, saying, "I don't care what they are, I don't care what it is." No forethought in that voice, no reason. Only pain and rage, and a sort of vocal ultimatum... I remember the feeling: They are my enemies, don't ever defend them, even with their own stupidity. The sound of my voice was... striking. Different. I stewed inside my anger, on and on, and I began to wish for it to stop. I had been imagining impossible revenges, and had taken great satisfaction in imagining stumbling upon a police car, magically stopped on a curb, waiting, and telling them that there were people harassing passers-by. But at 40th st., in front of the Fresh Grocer, I imagined killing them. It didn't just cross my mind, "I'll kill them," I imagined doing it. I imagined their fear. I imagined their pain. I imagined cutting their throats and I saw the blood. I wanted to kill them for real, and I imagined it all. And as the bloody images passed through my mind, I felt my shoulders begin to relax. I felt the tension seep out of my chest.

I had been thinking just hours before about compassion, and forgiveness, for matters so far beyond being scared and harrassed in the street. And here I was with this violent, explicit, burning anger in the heart of me. And I still feel it, when I think about what happened. In some ways I love my anger, although I refuse it often and I fear it, too. But it makes me feel more powerful, to know that it is there.

I have been thinking so much lately about evil and violence... Capote, Turtles Can Fly, The Autobiography of God... it's like I asked the universe, Evil 101, please. I've been dreaming about powerful male captives that kill and charm and break away. Captives I should perhaps kill but that I never do. My dreams have been very full, very vivid, very frightening. I am always in charge, and I capture these men, and I do not kill them, and they escape again. What is this evil of my soul? What am I to do with it? Has it been there all along?

Evil. The destruction of our spirits, the desecration of our bodies, the blinding of our eyes. Evil... the chimney stacks of Auschwitz. That evil before which our whole society trembles and turns away. That skeleton face with eyes gone that will haunt me forever. Evil, evil, evil... the death of a soul. Evil in the choosing not to see, not to know the evil that is done by other hands. Evil in the silence and evil in too much speaking. Evil in killing, in dogmatism (of any kind), evil in the refusal to listen and understand. Evil in the giving in to manipulators, be they rich or poor. Evil in the rejection of the self. Evil in the mis-seeing of another. Evil in my heart. Evil in the grasping, greedy, frightened parts of the whole. Evil in putting away the things I wish to do in the name of confusion or lethargy. Sometimes I am dogged by evil, followed by it like a man with a shovel, and I can feel it dragging, hear it scraping behind me though I dare not turn around and look.

I am tired. Evil is insidious. And I do not begin to understand it. Is there something in the cross, beyond all voyueristic sadomasochistic ecstasies of pain, that can teach me about evil? Standing at an intersection to itself, wrapping evil in the mantle of holy blessedness? (Or blessedness in a cloak of evil?)

Since it is All Saint's Day, and I have the litany in my head:

Mary Magdaline my name-saint, pray for us,
Peter chosen patron, pray for us,
Sweet beloved John, pray for us,
searching Augustine, pray for us,
Martha, Mary, Miriam, pray for us,
Sarah, Hagar, and Rebekah, pray for us,
Felicity, Perpetua, pray for us,
and all forgotten women, pray for us.

Andrew and Michael, pray for us,
John XXIII, pray for us,
Frank, Patrick, and Jon, pray for us,
Uncle Alan and my brother, pray for us,
Jane Divo, Father Norcott, pray for us,
Judas and Shawna's mother, pray for us.
All who perished under evil hands, pray for us,
all the hands which dispatched them, pray for us,
Pilate, Johnson, Lincoln, Kennedy, pray for us,
Theresa and Julian, pray for us.

C.S. Lewis, Meister Eckhart, pray for us,
Rumi and Mohammed, pray for us,
Hallaj and the Bal Shem Tov, pray for us,
Margery and Margaret, pray for us,
Paul and John the Baptist, pray for us,
Chrysogonus and Blaise, pray for us,
Lucy, Anne and Catherine, pray for us,
Rachel and Elizabeth, pray for us.

All you holy men and women, pray for us.


All the mysteries, and the greatest mystery of all to me is me.

I still feel the surge of fire-anger-heat inside, and the prick of fear.

November has come. I am stepping into it; take my hand.

Excellent Good

You have a 86% chance of surviving a T-Rex Attack You have a very good chance of surviving a T-Rex attack. You are very smart and know how to survive in the wild. You would be first in line if there was ever a real Jurassic Park. Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

Cain On a Fucking Stick.

Really Long Survey (over 200)
What is your name?:	Rebecca Lynne Just Realized Maybe I Shouldn't Put My Full Name in My Blog
Are you named after anyone?:	No... Sort of my mother, I guess, because she's Linda. Sort of my father because he's Just Realized Maybe I Shouldn't Put My Full Name in My Blog? *chuckles*
What's your screename?:	BeckyF342
Would you name a child of yours after you?:	Probably not directly, or as a first name.
If you were born a member of the opposite sex what would your name be?:	According to my preferences? Peter, since it is my confirmation name. According to what my mom and dad planned? I think Andrew or Nathan. I like Andrew better, I think.
If you could switch names with a friend who would it be?:	Jesus Christ.
Are there any mispronounciations/typos that ppl do w/ your name constantly?:	Not constantly. Once I was Rebecca Fawn in a mailing.
Would you drop your last name if you became famous?:	No! I would sound silly.
Basics
Your gender::	Female
Straight/Gay/Bi::	Basically straight, but since I just had a whole revelation about how the entire system of sexual labeling is in fact a service to the patriarchy, I feel compelled to object.
Single?:	Multiple! But not dating, if that's what you mean.
If not, do you want to be?:	But I am.
Birthdate::	4/20/82. Not 3/20/82.
Your age::	23
Age you act::	God, I don't know.
Age you wish you were::	God, I don't know.
Your height::	5'2"
Eye color::	Dark brown.
Happy with it?:	Ecstatic.
Hair color::	Dark brown.
Happy with it?:	Desperately un, but my religion forbids hair dye
Lefty/righty/ambidextrous::	Righty. If that really requires an y.
Your living arrangement::	I don't believe in an arranged life.
Your family::	What about it? I love them; they're crazy?
Have any pets?:	No living ones.
Whats your job?:	Finding missing apostrophes all over the internet and pointing it out.
Piercings?:	Ears.
Tattoos?:	Ears.
Obsessions?:	Ears.
Addictions?:	Ears.
Do you speak another language?:	Spanish.
Have a favorite quote?:	START WEARING PURPLE FOR ME NOW!
Do you have a webpage?:	Where you are if you're reading this, and www.uncutpages.org
Deep Thoughts About Life and You in it
Do you live in the moment?:	Of course. I just keep forgetting.
Do you consider yourself tolerant of others?:	Never.
Do you have any secrets?:	I always have secrets.
Do you hate yourself?:	That's an awfully dramatic way of putting it. Let's just say mildly detest.
Do you like your handwriting?:	That's an awfully dramatic way of putting it.
Do you have any bad habits?:	Never.
What is the compliment you get from most people?:	You are the most intelligent and stunning person I have ever met. Please come to bed with me at once, and afterwards talk about all things in life.
If a movie was made about your life, what would it be called?:	Deep Thoughts about Life and You in it
What's your biggest fear?:	Hippodick. Wait, I thought it said favorite swear word, but that will do.
Can you sing?:	Never.
Do you ever pretend to be someone else just to look cool?:	Not JUST to look cool. Also to gain prestige and sexual partners.
Are you a loner?:	In fact, I am alone now.
What are your #1 priorities in life?:	Ears.
If you were another person, would you be friends with you?:	Not JUST to look cool. Also to gain prestige and sexual partners.
Are you a daredevil?:	Not JUST to look cool... ok, I'll stop.
Is there anything you fear or hate about yourself?:	You mean the whole demonic possession thing? I've basically accepted it.
Are you passive or agressive?:	Best of both worlds!
Do you have a journal?:	I have.
What is your greatest strength and weakness?:	Profound. Are they in fact always the same? In any case, ears.
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?:	Sexier ears.
Do you think you are emotionally strong?:	In fact, I have a psyche of steel.
Is there anything you regret doing/not doing in life?:	Yes. Both, at the same time.
Do you think life has been good so far?:	No life is good except your father in heaven. Wait, doesn't work.
What is the most important lesson you've learned from life?:	Take care of your ears, and they will not fall off due to frostbite.
What do you like the most about your body?:	Elbows.
And least?:	Belly button.
Do you think you are good looking?:	You should see my fucking elbows.
Are you confident?:	With these elbows?
What is the fictional character you are most like?:	A sort of combination of Jay Gatsby, Boo Radley, and Catherine Earnshaw. Duh.
Are you perceived wrongly?:	Not JUST to look cool. Also to gain prestige and sexual partners. Sorry, I lied before.
Do You...
Smoke?:	When burning with passion.
Do drugs?:	Why is it "do" drugs?
Read the newspaper?:	When burning with passion.
Pray?:	When burning with extra passion.
Go to church?:	Why is it "go" to church?
Talk to strangers who IM you?:	And lie outrageously. I know... you wouldn't think I had it in me.
Sleep with stuffed animals?:	It's better than drinking alone.
Take walks in the rain?:	It's better than drinking alone.
Talk to people even though you hate them?:	I do hate people, and therefore I eshew verbal communication whenever possible.
Drive?:	I like to think I have drive.
Like to drive fast?:	Well, the one time I tried it, it was fun.
Would or Have You Ever?
Liked your voice?:	Never, and therefore I eshew verbal communication whenever possible.
Hurt yourself?:	When burning with passion. The burning, mostly.
Been out of the country?:	Never been in it.
Eaten something that made other people sick?:	Yes. I have carefully built up a tolerance to all known poisons. It was a grand state dinner last fall.
Been in love?:	Is that the opposite of the country?
Done drugs?:	Let's not get redundant, here.
Gone skinny dipping?:	Not JUST to look cool... hehe, you know the rest.
Had a medical emergency?:	In fact, I am currently having a medical emergency. Never mix burning and arsenic.
Had surgery?:	NEVER mix burning and arsenic. NEVER.
Ran away from home?:	Walked. Slowly. If you run, they will shoot.
Played strip poker?:	I won, too.
Gotten beaten up?:	Sex with Klingons is like that.
Beaten someone up?:	Sex with Klingons is like that.
Been picked on?:	Sex with Klingons is like that.
Been on stage?:	You've been talking to Charlotte, haven't you. DON'T believe her. I HATE PLAYS!
Slept outdoors?:	In a blizzard. Luckily, I was having sex with a Klingon at the time. #1 for body heat production.
Thought about suicide?:	Sex with Klingons is like that.
Pulled an all nighter?:	And it pulled back.
If yes, what is your record?:	The Original Cast Recording of Brigadoon.
Gone one day without food?:	It's better than sex with Klingons. And drinking alone.
Talked on the phone all night?:	Talked to the phone all night. I was very lonely.
Slept together with the opposite sex w/o actually having sex?:	Impossible.
Slept all day?:	Impossible.
Killed someone?:	That would be one of those secrets. Let's just say I am no stranger to the mark of Cain.
Made out with a stranger?:	Made off with a stranger.
Had sex with a stranger?:	You think I have a lot of Klingon buddies, or something?
Thought you're going crazy?:	I've heard that only sane people think they are going crazy, because crazy people believe they are sane. Yet I persist in thinking that I am going crazy. Which may be proof.
Kissed the same sex?:	I'm not sure I've kissed sex at all.
Done anything sexual with the same sex?:	You didn't think I meant a male Klingon, did you? At least not the first time.
Been betrayed?:	One doesn't carefully build up a tolerance to all known poisons for one's health, does one? That didn't come out right. Yes.
Had a dream that came true?:	In an abstract Kinder Egg way.
Broken the law?:	Shattered it, and walked barefoot over the pieces.
Met a famous person?:	Let's just say I am no stranger to the mark of Cain.
Have you ever killed an animal by accident?:	Not by accident.
On purpose?:	Oh, I got ahead of myself there.
Told a secret you swore you wouldn't tell?:	Not by accident.
Stolen anything?:	Only livers. Wait--hearts--was thinking in Chinese again.
Been on radio/tv?:	Radiotv is my favorite place to be.
Been in a mosh-pit?:	Sex with Klingons is like that.
Had a nervous breakdown?:	Have you been reading this carefully?
Bungee jumped?:	By accident.
Had a dream that kept coming back?:	Let's just say I am no stranger to the mark of Cain.
Beliefs
Belive in life on other planets?:	Hello! Klingons.
Miracles?:	After observing the perfection of ears... how could I not believe?
Astrology?:	Does Astrology mean Star-Words? 'Cause that would be hot.
Magic?:	I'm an alchemist.
God?:	I have seen the perfection of ears... how could I not believe?
Satan?:	Then again, it never hurts to hedge your bets.
Santa?:	Does it sound like I had the sort of home life that would facilitate such a belief?
Ghosts?:	Let's just say I am no stranger to the mark of Banquo.
Luck?:	No.
Love at first sight?:	No.
Yin and yang (that good cant exist w/o bad)?:	No. And yes.
Witches?:	They were persecuted.
Easter bunny?:	Great ears.
Believe its possible to remain faithful forever?:	Let's just say I am no stranger to the mark of Hester Prynne.
Believe theres a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow?:	Absolutely.
Do you wish on stars?:	I have never been on a star.
Deep Theological Questions
Do you believe in the traditional view of Heaven and Hell?:	No, I have a telescope and I intend to use it.
Do you think God has a gender?:	Many.
Do you believe in organized religion?:	Many.
Where do you think we go when we die?:	Limbo. Limbo. Life without life.
Friends
Do you have any gay/lesbian friends?:	You're really NOT paying attention, are you? Isn't half the survey about Cain?
Who is your best friend?:	I talked all night to a telephone. I don't really have a lot of friends.
Who's the one person that knows most about you?:	George W. Bush.
What's the best advice that anyone has ever given to you?:	The thing about burning and arsenic from before.
Your favourite inside joke?:	The thing about burning and arsenic from before.
Thing you're picked on most about?:	The thing about burning and arsenic from before.
Who's your longest known friend?:	See above re. demonic possession.
Newest?:	The telephone.
Shyest?:	You.
Funniest?:	Karl Rove.
Sweetest?:	Death.
Closest?:	See above re. demonic possession
Weirdest?:	The guy who got me started on the whole poison thing.
Smartest?:	The guy who got me started on the whole poison thing.
Ditziest?:	Probably the Klingons.
Friends you miss being close to the most?:	My GOD, I'm SORRY already about this whole killing business.
Last person you talked to online?:	Rachel.
Who do you talk to most online?:	The spirit of Napolean Bonaparte. Fascinating conversationalist, but can't spell.
Who are you on the phone with most?:	Haven't we been over this?
Who do you trust most?:	Trust no one.
Who listens to your problems?:	The goddamn fucking telephone.
Who do you fight most with?:	Sex with Klingons is like that.
Who's the nicest?:	Nice isn't really high on my list.
Who's the most outgoing?:	Death! Really knows how to work a room.
Who's the best singer?:	Napolean Bonaparte. Self-proclaimed, since obviously I have never heard him.
Who's on your shit-list?:	Am I going to write that in a public forum?
Have you ever thought of having sex with a friend?:	Not just thought.
Who's your second family?:	I think I'm starting to lose brain function.
Do you always feel understood?:	Always.
Who's the loudest friend?:	Oh, absolutely the Klingons.
Do you trust others easily?:	Yes. Can you hear my snide tone of voice through my typing fingers?
Who's house were you last at?:	My own.
Name one person who's arms you feel safe in::	NOT Klingons!
Do your friends know you?:	In fact, we've never met.
Friend that lives farthest away::	Oh, absolutely the Klingons.
Love and All That
Do you consider love a mistake?:	Always.
What do you find romantic?:	Ears.
Turn-on?:	Ears.
Turn-off?:	Having to sing or talk.
First kiss?:	No thanks.
If someone u had no interest in had interest in dating u how would u feel?:	Like I've been reduced to a meaningless vowel.
Do you prefer knowing someone before dating them or going:	Going. God, please, going.
Have u ever wished it was more socially acceptable 4 a girl 2 ask a guy out:	Night and day.
Have you ever been romantically attracted to someone physically unattractiv:	Night and day.
Do you think the opposite sex finds you good looking?:	Night and day.
What is best about the opposite sex?:	Ears.
What is the worst thing about the opposite sex?:	Feet.
What's the last present someone gave you?:	Ears and feet. It gave me this strange feeling of trembly and sadomasochistic pleasure.
Are you in love?:	That would be telling.
Do you consider your significant other hot?:	What did I say about burning and arsenic?
Who Was the Last Person...
That haunted you?:	Did you read what I said about ghosts? And Cain?
You wanted to kill?:	Did you read what I said about ghosts? And Cain?
That you laughed at?:	The Klingons. Bad idea.
That laughed at you?:	Rachel. A lot.
That turned you on?:	The Klingons. Bad idea.
You went shopping with?:	The Klingons. Bad idea.
That broke your heart?:	In fact, I have a heart of steel.
To disappoint you?:	This survey writer in the love section with all the bad grammar.
To ask you out?:	The Klingons. Bad idea.
To make you cry?:	In fact, I've been sobbing for the last twenty minutes of this damn thing.
To brighten up your day?:	Codename "Cain." Doesn't that suck?
That you thought about?:	Obviously, for everyone, it would be the person in the previous question.
You saw a movie with?:	My ex-siamese twin, Edgar.
You talked to on the phone?:	We've been over this.
You talked to through IM/ICQ?:	Bekah.
You saw?:	I've been staring at my neighbor across the street for three successive mornings now.
You lost?:	STOP IT!
Right This Moment...
Are you going out?:	No, I'm sitting here.
Will it be with your significant other?:	No.
Or some random person?:	Yes.
What are you wearing right now?:	No.
Body part you're touching right now::	Heh. Ears. You caught me.
What are you worried about right now?:	That this agony will never end. In a literal as well as a figurative sense.
What book are you reading?:	Wizard's Holiday
What's on your mousepad?:	I use actual mouse skin. Do you think that's creepy?
Use 5 words to describe how you're feeling::	No, I won't, you fellator. (Ironically, these were also you-know-who's last words)
Are you bored?:	I take the 5th.
Are you tired?:	Never.
Are you talking to anyone online?:	Yes.
Are you talking to anyone on the phone?:	Leave me the fuck alone about the phone already.
Are you lonely or content?:	Both.
Are you listening to music?:	Both.
Take this survey | Find more surveys You've been totally Bzoink*d

Uh-oh, I found a survey website!

This one has questions starting with every letter of the alphabet. I will try to restrict myself to such interesting ones.

[the alphabet survey]
Act your age:	Ridiculous and basically without meaning.
Born on what day of the week:	Tuesday-- full of grace, me.
Chore you hate:	Dishes and laundry and... oh, everything.
Dad's name:	Patrick Henry Fullan, Jr.
Essentail make-up item:	None. Essentail? Perhaps some ribbons, if one is a show horse.
Favorite actors/actresses:	So many... Geoffery Rush, Alan Rickman, Jude Law (yes, for the beauty alone), Matt Damon a lot of the time, Emma Thompson, Susan Saradon, Kate Winslet.. this list is random...
Gold or sliver:	Gold (or Silver and Gold like Yukon Cornelius)
Hometown:	Syracuse, NY
Instruments you play:	Played the flute, but I haven't in years.
Job title:	Marketing and Public Relations Assistant
Kids:	Haven't any. Love them, though.
Living arrangements:	I live in a two bedroom apartment with Rachel, who I was about to call my roommate, but that's obvious, isn't it?
Mom's name:	Linda Ann Elizabeth Chiappone Fullan
Number of socks you own:	God, I don't know. Most not in pairs.
Overnight hospital stays:	Stayed for several weeks as soon as I arrived in the world. Other than that... I've made it into the night, but always gone home again.
Phobia:	Severed heads and the severing thereof.
Quote you like:	"And all the wickedness of the world, that man might work or think, is no more to the mercy of God than a live coal in the sea."
Religious affiliation:	Roman Catholic. Isn't affiliation an interesting word?
Siblings:	One, Patrick Chiappone Fullan, born without kidneys when I was three and a half. None that I've known or seen.
Time you woke up today:	Woke up randomly at 7:16 or something, alarm went off at 7:30, got up at 8:20 (oops)
Unusual habits:	None that I've noticed, but then, I wouldn't, would I?
Vicious thing you've done:	I guess I've told people things I knew would really stick them hard.
Worst habit:	Self-criticism, and procrastination as a product thereof.
X-rays you've had:	Teeth many times, stomach area (I think), head and sinus area in Spain.
Your favorite season:	Fall and Spring... moderate temperatures, pretty plant life.
Zodiac sign:	Taurus. Or Ares. I'm on a cusp. Doesn't that sound dramatic?
Take this survey | Find more surveys You've been totally Bzoink*d

No Free Night of Theater for Me!

Boooooooooo! The show I was going to go to for the "free night of theater" is in fact sold out, and has been for weeks, despite the fact that it is not listed as sold out on the website. I am very sad. I want a free night of theater, please! Why did I not know about this earlier? Apparently I should check the Philly Fun Guide at all times.

Sorry, this post is a random and uninteresting expression of my disappointment, and nothing more. I'll try to improve things later on.

In Light of the Grad School Issue, Something to Consider?

American Cities That Best Fit You:

70% New York City

65% Boston

65% Washington, DC

60% Philadelphia

55% Atlanta

I Wasn't Trying!

Ok, Todd should totally call me so I can stop adding these pointless quizzes to my blog and go home... but....

Your Inner European is Spanish!

Energetic and lively. You bring the party with you!

Who's Your Inner European?

A Bit Random, Considering that it Comes From Comparing People to Saltine Crackers and Meat Snacks... but ok...

What You Really Think Of Your Friends

Katie is your soulmate.

You truly love Lilah.

You consider Chelsea your true friend.

You know that Maddie is always thinking of you.

You'll remember Rachel for the rest of your life.

You secretly think Julia is creative, charming, and a bit too dramatic at times.

You secretly think that Kirstin is colorful, impulsive, and a total risk taker.

You secretly think that Bekah is loyal and trustworthy to you. And that Bekah changes lovers faster than underwear.

You secretly think Elizabeth is shy and nonconfrontational. And that Elizabeth has a hidden internet romance.

That's Nice...

Jude Law: you like them romantic and British with
beauiful green eyes.


Which guy are you destined to have sex with?
brought to you by Quizilla

Despite the womanizing and reputed sex addiction, he's lovely... right, Tom?

That's Tom Ripley, not Tom Abrams, though obviously anyone named Tom can answer the question if he feels inclined.

On Graduate School and the Research Process Thereof

It's been such a long time since I said anything here. I realized that, while I may not have hoards of readers, nonetheless they may grow bored with continued silence and seek other forms of entertainment.

That, and I sort of want to bitch about grad school.

Grad school is weird. I don't understand it. I feel a little slighted because I am not receiving the volumes of mail I did for undergrad, but beyond that, it is simply difficult for me to sort through the many, many programs that exist without something physical to look at, read over, and judge from. I don't know if I'm doing this for the right reasons, but to be honest I feel rather trapped. I certainly don't want to wake up ten years from now and find that I've climbed some sort of theater management ladder and am doing more of the same in a more high-powered way. Which, when I put it that way, doesn't sound too horrible. But it's not what I want... If school is weird, offices are ten times weirder. I find myself saying my new job (Marketing and Public Relations Assistant) with pride because I think it's a cool title and because I expect that people will be impressed, not because I think it's a fantastic thing to do. So, it's clear that continuing a long time on this path is not for me.

Of course, arguably this whole Merriam thing is just my day job, and nobody's day job is her passion, right? Arguably, I have Uncut Pages to fuel me and satiate my creative appetite. Another tricky question... because no one else in Uncut Pages is, in fact, solely working a day job and biding time until the next project. Which means I must either cut my strings and go it alone, or twiddle my thumbs while everyone else engages in stimulating activities. The question of what I would do if that were not the case looms large, but I truly don't know how to answer it. If everyone else in the group was totally gung ho about working as they needed to keep body and soul together, but otherwise devoting the majority of free time and energy to Uncut Pages, would that be enough for me, too? Not that I'm expecting or truly wanting anyone to do that... but would I be satisfied then without school in my life? Sometimes it seems that way... and it's easy to get caught up in confusion and the illusion that others can control the way I live my life. If they would just answer their surveys, I would know what to do... right? And the idea of losing the enterprise, of letting it drift slowly to an end before it's really begun... well, it fills me with a painful sort of panic, and I'm not even entirely sure where it's coming from. Perhaps I feel that this is my last chance to create my great adventure. But, if it comes right down to that, there's something in me that says I would still want to do this, even if Uncut Pages full time was a totally viable option. I hope that something is right and true. It seems very important to me. I'm quite afraid that I'm going to school as a sort of "everyone else is doing it/better than the other options" measure. And that seems... wrong. It seems like, if that is really the case, then I should not go. But not going... feels wrong, too.

When I first left college, I felt a sort of compulsive desire to return to school. Partially because school was familiar and I knew what to expect. After all, the vast majority of my life has been spent in school. At that time, just a few months after leaving, it felt extremely urgent. I needed to be studying, reading scholastic things, doing research, etc. Yet somehow I didn't need it enough to apply, not then anyway. Now it feels less urgent, somehow. I've seen that it's perfectly possible to survive without school, and have an interesting (and in some ways more relaxed!) time. I still think, I still read, I still have exciting ideas. But this time, maybe because it is less necessary, I am taking more concrete steps toward application. In the form of serious sustained research of schools, and signing up for the bitch of an English subject GRE. As stupid, insane, uneccessary, stiltified, prejuicidal, gratuitously expensive, and plain ridiculous as the thing is, I am in some ways clinging to the fact that I've registered and to my preparations for it... because it's concrete and clear, and it is something I have accomplished and can continue to accomplish in definite ways. You would think the applications might feel that way too... but in truth the applications just feel scary as hell.

Ok. Time to break it down a bit. Why do I want to go to grad school and in what? Last year, I was really gung-ho about the Comp Lit, despite the fact that I do not have a third language, let alone a fourth as many schools require. I felt that Comp Lit was my home, I understood it, I was fucking good at it, it narrowed the list of schools a bit, and, most importantly, I could continue to float around in interdisciplinary land; I could retain my precious transgressive flexibility. Maud's email on the subject confused me (in positive and negative ways) to the point where I stopped looking at schools for almost a year. Well, to be fair, I'm sure it was not entirely Maud's email that did this, but let's use it as a talking point. Maud said she did not recommend grad school in comp lit, because it was difficult, the resources were scattered, and you came out less employable. Also, I was not yet qualified for "any comp lit program worth its salt," because I do not have a second foreign language... whereas, in an English program, my Spanish would serve as a powerful asset. She suggested doing English or "something else altogether," like this gender studies thing her friend was running. I feel like I should have taken into consideration the fact that Maud did her degree some time ago at an institution I was not really considering, but in the long run... I basically took it on faith, abandoned (though not immediately) my Comp Lit search, and began to look at the English programs at schools she recommened for me-- Harvard, Yale, Duke, Princeton, UCLA, UVA... all completely big-shot, top of the top sorts of places... the other part that floored me. She seemed to take it for granted that I was qualified for such schools, that such schools would be the natural places for me to consider continuing my education. I hadn't quite grasped that...that my undergraduate education and performance has, in fact, made me more attractive academically than I was when applying to college. It makes sense... it just hadn't quite occured to me. So it took me awhile to deal with that. And now... well, I'm excited. :) I want to be the best. I just hope these schools are actually, also, the best for me. I hope I end up doing this, all of it, for the right reasons.

And there are so many reasons... I want to be cool, I want people to talk about me and say, wow, she's going to ______, I knew she was smart, but I didn't know she was that smart. I want to be the first one in my family to get a PhD. I want to show my parents, and my uncles, and my cousins, and my teachers, and my friends... and my not-friends... that I, in fact, am the smartest bitch they're likely to know, and that is enough to excuse all the awkward moments, all the lack of boyfriends or a driver's license, the derth of knowledge on feminine arts of beauty... because there was always something greater in me, because I am, perhaps, an excuseable genius. Hmm. It's not them I want to show, really, is it? It's me. I have these problems with myself and I have this need to enhance my own opinion. And that's there. That's totally there, right beside my applications and my study book and my number two pencils (which I don't have yet but should buy before the exam). If I can't be the absolute 100% best, I at least have to show that I'm as good as anybody else out there. All right, so... let's not call it a bad reason, per se, let's just say it's an unachievable one. As long as that frosty drive is inside of me, it will never, never, never be satisfied. I could graduate from all of those institutions at the same time, and it would say that there was something left undone.

Writing that paragraph left me very nervous. Autumn cleaning? I hope so.

So... as of now, the list stands at Harvard (both for English, which boasts an impressive list of names and less exciting courses and for their Divinity School, which I stumbled on by chance, and which is so impractical and so enchanting--Amy Hollywood from my thesis, and tons of classes I want to take. Also Lilah.), Duke (for English. The friendliest, most complete and helpful website ever, and apparently they're very highly ranked for gender studies within the English field. And the classes sound wonderful.), Cornell (for MFA in Creative Writing leading into PhD in English--nifty little program, also very close to Syracuse-home. I think I found a couple of classes I like), NYU (for Comparative Lit, I think, one of the first programs I looked at, and the last Comp Lit holdout... it's beautifully funded, I like the organization of the program, and I promised Charlotte), Yale (for English, mostly because Rachel's into it... like Harvard, lovely professors, less exciting class descriptions. Also, in earlier years for some reason I always liked the idea of Yale better than Harvard, so it seems odd to just apply to the latter.) Not a bad list, you say, and it isn't. It just feels so... random. I'm entertaining a casual flirtation with Drew University, too, and I still want to look up Chicago, and Princeton one last time, because I remember being so impressed with them as an undergrad. Might want to take a gander at the D.C. options too, just because I still would love to get a chance to live and work there. I feel like a safety school or two wouldn't hurt, either. And there was that program in Madrid.... Any input would be lovely.

I was supposed to decide by today, and email my potential recommenders. I know I have to, but the idea of it is so nervewracking. But I can't let it get much later. I don't want this to slip by me again.

What is it I need? Is it patience and faith, that it will all work out somehow? Or perhaps a more decisive and dilligent approach? I try to remind myself that college was once this uncertain, and I agonized over my choices. I only hope something like Bryn Mawr, or the Bryn Mawr-esque experience (in terms of personal fit and importance) emerges now.

I feel like there is endlessly more to say, but this has gone on long enough, and should be posted. More on this and other topics soon, especially if it continues to be this slow at work.

One Show Left, or The Post About Everything Ever

So much... so much... SO MUCH has happened, is happening. There are so many things to say. And I'm not entirely sure why I'm writing this, except that I want contact with someone, something, and half the apartment is cavorting at a bar, one quarter of it is cavorting in the shower, and the other eighth (excepting myself), is in some sort of catatonic state on the floor.

The problem with writing after so long is that I feel an obligation to catch up, and if I tried to do that now, I would be here for the next several months.

My God, the Fringe. The Fringe, my show, the Fringe, the apartment, the Fringe. Can I just say I feel everything about it? I feel everything about it. I feel that it is going wonderfully and horribly, and I love it and hate it, and all the gradations and shades in between. I know I couldn't keep this up for that much longer, but the fact that tomorrow is our last show might also break my heart. For good reasons and bad ones. Good reasons like love and wonder and delight in what we have done, are doing, in the talent and energy and the amazing women all around me. Bad reasons like panic over Philadelphia, and fear, the terrible cankerous fear of the moment when we all are definitively split. Fear that the moment has come and gone already, and that I am singularly disposable, less-than-ardently loved.

My own need to be loved haunts me. There's very little I can say about it without cringing. It follows me like a child, like a parasite... the more I hate it, the more it grows in power.

Well, and. And I saw a wonderful show tonight. It said lots of things, some things beautiful, some difficult, some weird. It was about terrorism, I guess, but about the terrorism in our hearts, too. Some of the things it said were so much like the things I was trying to say in my play. It was extremely frightening. I loved it, although it was sometimes extremely hard to handle. I think I sort of want to talk about it, but Crista has disappeared, and Rachel hated it so much she practically fled through the streets of New York to get away from it, which was extraordinarilly irritating for those of us trying to keep up with her. (I think you got that message from me, anyway, Rachel, but if not I apologize, because I don't want to be one of those weird passive-aggressive types who vents her frustration only in a private-public forum such as this one.)

So whatever... I mean, I'm annoyed... in fact, there are lots of little annoyances adding up to a little flame of anger inside of me, though the anger is not for anyone in particular, it just... is. I think mostly I'm lonely. Which is an odd thing in an apartment full of people. Or maybe it's to be expected. Why am I so concerned with having a place? Why do I need to be loved, not just at all, but in the right amounts by the right people at the right times?

I mean... it isn't all the time, but it's enough. The strange squeezed feeling inside, and the way I click, suddenly, into some kind of tunnel vision. I want to feel important! I may as well be honest. But inside I feel greedy, and grasping, and strange, for wanting this. And I hate being angry, but at the same time I can feel myself making decisions about it. Like, going down the street after Rachel, I could feel the anger come and offer itself, I could feel the warring desires to move toward it and away... the need to stay with the depth and the open space in me from the play vs. the need to be tethered and responsive to other people's feelings. What I don't feel is the moment of decision. I just seem to slip by, from one to the other, and then it has occurred, and my distress at that fact serves mostly to entrap me the more.

What is it that would be enough? When I was walking down the street, I had a moment of clarity, and before that while sitting and watching the play. In the play it was about compassion, about the tricky, particular nature of compassion, and the simplicity of it, that it is compassion that is holy and filled with truth, and compassion that tells the truth to our hearts in the face of horror and confusion and pain. Walking down the street, I was arm in arm with Crista and I realized that connecting is what matters, connecting with whomever is beside you, with as many people as you find... that it isn't who or for how long that detirmines connection and love, but only the magic that happens, between so many people. Like that old footprints on the heart thing, I guess... but it was very powerful. It made me see that I have not lost the people I loved, that the love is real even if it is only for a little while.

But somehow I moved from that to the complete particularity of anger, self-pity, grief. Anger at being abandoned, self-pity at same, grief at losing. Perhaps I am just afraid to be alone with myself... not to tangle myself up in my feelings but simply to be with them. I don't know, but I want to tell someone, Please don't go. Please don't forget me, Please love me. I'm here, please love me enough, love me with an ardent sort of echo in your eyes. Notice all the things about me that no-one has, and tell me so that I should know.

Am I talking to a friend, many friends, a lover, someone I want? Am I talking to God? No, I don't think it's God. Am I talking to me?

Weechee-in. Help me.

At the play there was a warm certainty. You must pray, I thought to myself, you must pray, pray and be full of compassion. But when I thought of prayers, of praying, of the supplicating act, that was not it. That was not what the warm certainty was asking for. My faith is perhaps being shredded by claws. Perhaps they are divine claws, or my own. Perhaps I shall make scarves out of the tatters.

The woman in the play said that great things are seen, are built, are understood through bodies and bloodshed and seeing such things. She did not name the cross, but I thought of it. She was wrong, I know that she was wrong. Or... that's not it. She was right. But there is another way. Make eyeholes in the mask of my beliefs, let me see it, let me see.

Then there is the voice that says I am afraid to see, that I am afraid always, that I am... Well, you know all about it. My God-- just realized I've turned into Professor Dilexi. Stuck between going forward and going back, between the unknown something and the known purgatory. Limbo! Like Bingo only less singing involved.

All right. Starting to ramble now. One show tomorrow. One show left. I'm scared. I feel sort of pierced. I will see my aunt tomorrow. Why doesn't my father call me back? Why doesn't he want to see me? Well, that's another thing.

One show left, one show. I do love you, you know.

Past Perfect Tense

Lately the past has been oddly present to me, but in strange, fretful, half-forgotten ways. For a mild example, when I started writing this entry some time ago, I was wearing a shirt with "Anything Goes" on it. And, as I walked across the Bellevue floor to go to the bathroom before lunch, I became overwhelmed by memories of performing Anything Goes... specifically how important it was at the time, and how my field of experience was so different from what it is now.

I am afraid of the past in many ways, yet I am also afraid of the fluidity with which it slips away. Rachel and I had sort of a collective-yet-separate revisiting of old documents and things from several years ago, in the heat of dire(-seeming), emotionally boiling situations. I certainly (perhaps we all did) went through a time when I was eager to rip myself open, in hopes of getting to the cancer inside, so to speak, and getting it out of me.

But what exactly convinced me that I have something cancerous to get rid of? I suppose that's a whole separate topic, but it seems related. I guess the problem is that I am uncertain of my relationship to myself in the past. Does that make sense? There are feelings I know I had, that I can no longer understand. Or... I feel ashamed of feeling them. Ashamed is the best word I can think of, but what it really feels like is a hot feeling all over my body, sparking and sudden, that makes me want to turn away from what I was.

I can feel the past closer to me now than it used to be, both in terms of mundane events and big sweeping ones. I am also more aware of things I thought I had left behind, that are still there. How is it that something can be dismissed in your mind, but linger in some part of yourself, as hot and strong as ever, ready to rise up again? Maybe not as strong as ever... that's not quite right. But there. There and full of influence. I am disturbed by looking back at how events have unfolded in and around me, because I can see how I might have calculatingly planned it all out, to work to my advantage. I wasn't aware of such a thing... but it's possible.

I realize this is all maddeningly vague, and I still have a lot to say, but it's time to eat dinner now, and clean the kitchen.

Speaking of punches packed from the past.

Well, fuck that, anyway. I have a kitchen in which I can eat dinner. Score one for the great escapee.