Good morning, good morning.
I'm sleeping through my class, but it's okay. I'm in a nice mood. I'm very relaxed. My hair is clean, the day is beautiful. Into the sensual world. Mmm, yes.
2003-10-28, Oh me!
Gosh, I love the internet today!
Swiped from Jacqui, had me in hysterics. Dear Lord it's wonderful NPRness.
Because my expensive liberal arts education has done nothing (nossssing!) to further my understanding of western thought.
Ursula Le Guin's website is the cutest and most adorable thing on the interwebbernet. It has actual stuff to read. And she's cute. Cute cute cute.
2003-10-27, Ineloquent expressions of Love.
Today I'm wearing a dress. It's a long off white shift with a pale green botanical pattern. I'm wearing a crocheted cardigan over it. My hair is pulled back from my face with two small clips with blue flowers.
In the bathroom, I was washing my hands. A woman next to me - a big dyke, wearing a wifebeater and baggy jeans - said Good Morning to me. I'd never seen her before. I said Good Morning to her.
"Going to church?" she asked.
"I already went," I said, and left the bathroom.
Maybe I'm misreading this exchange, but I was so furiously pissed off at her. I felt snideness, and disdain, at the way she judged me from how I dress. I felt she thought I was a prudish, schoolmarm, homophobic Christian girl.
You don't know me. You don't know anything I've done, my sexual past, my experimentations and fuck ups, my extraordinarily liberal heart, my theological dilemmas, my inability to care if I seem girlish or womanly, my passion and my joy. If you think I'm nothing but a white dress on Sunday, you're not being very open minded. I don't care who or what people fuck. I don't care, I never have, but if you think I do because I go to Church, something isn't right.
The anti-Christian sentiments I come across really upset me. I feel as though you need to love something and understand it before you can criticize it. And people who are flagrantly uninformed about Christian theology and sit around and speak nastily about it need to be, ugh, I don't know. It offends me.
2003-10-26, rage, rage, rage
Thank you Mr. or Mrs. R! I love it when people find me for reasons having to do with existentialists. I love existentialists. Life is nothing. Ho ho ho!
Dear lord what a week! On Monday I had a beautiful spectacular day, which is pretty remarkable considering my state Sunday (NEVER LET ME MIX DRINKS AGAIN). All was so beautiful - I strutted my way across campus feeling like the most beautiful being in the earth, feeling so full of love for the people who deserve it, taking my time while running outside errands (which I rarely do) just to savor the world, thinking that "I don't think I believe in God, but I don't know how else to refer to this day but as a gift from God."
So, that evening, I had to return to my friend her bottle of sherry. As I was standing in line to get into the dining hall, my hand just let go. The sherry spread out underneath me, and I stammered a bit and inhaled the wine scent. Sometimes I don't know what comes over me.
All week I've felt a little bit strange, a little bit alive, a little bit sad, a little bit self righteous, a little bit weak, a little bit (okay, with reference to George, a lot bit) angry. Music has affected me more than usual. Poetry has made me feel full of love (though for whom? for whom, indeed.) Jesus has made me feel loved. Anne Carson has made me feel electric. Thesis Advisors have made me feel strong, Thesis Critics have made me feel flakey.
I can't quite complain, so long as running helps keep away the dreadful and overwhelming anxiety. That choking feeling that doesn't allow me to breathe properly, that frantic feeling that makes me foul up all of my interpersonal relationships. That was a very good idea, jogging.
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