wooooyeah

wrote a random sonnet during class.

 

Some days I walk with strength and speak with ease
Sometimes I feel a beauty matched by none,
No problems, only challenges to seize,
My grateful cheeks kissed by the glowing sun.
But other days, my soul feels washed with tears,
And my eyes heavy, weighted to the ground,
Not guided by my hopes, but by my fears,
In music’s place, a muffled, muddy sound.
Still, even when my days feel gray and bare,
The gentle sun obscured by clouds of dread,
I love each day to breathe the precious air,
To think the swirling thoughts within my head.

For, how, without some sadness or some strife,
Can I truly love this sweetly human life?

 

© 2011

charlie and baldie say good bye

Hi, hi, I know.  You’re not reading this, nobody is, but I had to report back with THE RESOLUTION OF MY LIFE BLOCKBUSTER SAGA.  Seriously, it just now came to a close this past weekend, and who else could I even tell besides my deserted wordpress?  Since I’m pretty sure this is the only place that the story was ever shared in the first place.

OK so, as I told you long ago, I once formed an unbreakable bond with the bald dude at Blockbuster when he consoled me in my desolation over the fact that they did not have a copy of Charlie Bartlett in stock.  This bond was further deepened the next week when he SAVED a copy of Charlie Bartlett for me without my even ASKING him to, and we continued to share a special connection through all of my subsequent, frequent visits to Blockbuster (He started to affectionately call me “Charlie” after my initial freak-out, which added a sweet note of quirkiness to our already quirky friendship.)  In case I wasn’t ALREADY hugely indebted to him for saving me a C.B. dvd, I became even more so when he heroically jumped my car when its battery died in the parking lot.

Unfortunately, we began to drift a bit in our friendship when I left for school.  And also when my family got Netflix.  However, even with these severe roadblocks, I would still return to Blockbuster on the odd weekend here and there, and we would share an exuberant high five and reminisce about all of our beautiful memories.  WELL, this past weekend I went home, and as I drove past Blockbuster I saw that it had finally happened.  Massive yellow signs coated all of the windows shouting, CLOSING! and CLEARANCE! and EVERYTHING MUST GO!, and I knew that my beloved Blockbuster was, at last, closing its doors forever.  Although this was a tragedy, it was also an excellent chance to acquire movies on the cheap, so my siblings and I set off to do a sweep of the store in search of any quality films that we might want to add to our collection.

We thoroughly explored the shelves, but unfortunately all of the good movies had been retrieved long ago.  I was prepared to give up, when, suddenly, as I sifted through the rack of $2 movies, I saw Charlie Bartlett resting unassumingly at the bottom of one of the last piles.  My heart practically broke with nostalgia and irony!  I lovingly extracted the DVD from the stack, and brought it to the register where, of course, my dear, bald friend was faithfully waiting.
“I suppose this brings our story full circle…” I laughed ruefully, placing the film on the counter.
“Charlie!  I worried I wouldn’t see you again before we closed.  But somehow I knew you’d come in and buy that.”  He peeled the price tag off of the box, and handed me the movie without scanning it.  ”It’s yours.  I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who ever cared that this movie existed.”
“It’s not even that good,” I admitted.  We laughed, the kind of heartbreaking, reluctant laugh that you let out when something is accidentally funny at a funeral.
“I guess I’ll pretty much never see you again.”  I looked hard at him, desperately trying to commit everything about his wonderful, bald head to memory.
“Damn Netflix,” he sighed.
“Thanks for that time you jumped my car,” I said sincerely.  ”Truly, I will never forget it.”
“And I won’t forget you, Charlie.”  He replied.  I reached across the counter and, slowly, we high-fived one last time, the sound of our hands echoing across the nearly empty store.

I gathered my movie and my siblings, and gave one more wave as we walked out of Blockbuster for the last time.

And that, my friends, is the end of my storied and sentimental affair with Blockbuster and its bald employee.

library luck

Right now I am sitting at the circulation desk of the West Chester Public Library.  I’m terribly bored, so I figured I’d pay a visit to the gooood old blog.

WHY, you may ask, am I sitting here?!  Well.  It’s a magical story actually.

Back in December I had a little run-in with The Law (another, equally magical story), and the (eventual) fallout of that incident was that I was assigned 30 hrs of SERVICE TO THE COMMUNITY.  They gave me a list of approved organizations I could serve and sent me on my way.  As I dolefully scanned this meager list of organizations, my eyes immediately leaped to the  LIBRARY, not only because it seemed lightyears more appealing than the Housing Authority or the Crime Victims Center, but ALSO because libraries are, generally, the shit.  So I called the library, but to my heartbreak and dismay they told me that NO HOURS were available!  So I had to arrange things with the Housing Authority, where they said I would be cleaning elderly residences in the projects.  Now, I mean in no way to imply that this is a less than noble task…just that, in contrast with working among golden rows of musty and glorious books, it sounded pretty horrible.  Nevertheless, I planned to scrub away in the muck and the mire of the projects (I’m not sure why I’m speaking in such poetic hyperbole…I think it may be the effects of being at the library desk.  I really actually know nothing about “the projects”, so if you are an elderly person who lives there and your home is, in fact, free of muck and mire…do forgive me) and I resigned all hope of ever basking among the dusty shelves of the West Chester Library.

BUT THEN!  All of the snow happened, so I couldn’t start at the H.A., and suddenly “John” (IF THAT’S EVEN HIS REAL NAME) from the Housing Authority stopped returning my emails, and it seemed as if my one community service option had vanished beneath the drifts of soggy snow.  What would happen now?  Would I ever complete my hours?  Would a warrant be put out for my arrest because of failure to comply, all thanks to the elusive John????!  I called every organization on the list, and no hours were available.  In a moment of desperation, just as I was about to spiral into an oblivion of hopelessness, I decided to give the library another try.  And this time, magically, AN ABUNDANCE of hours were available!!!

So.  Today is my first day.  I was expecting a boring and sterile sort of library like the one near my house, but INSTEAD this one is a glorious rambling mansion with elaborate woodwork, and stained glass windows that, not even lying, would shame the cathedral at Notre Dame.  And there’s a beautiful children’s section that literally makes my heart swell with joy, AND the librarians asked me if I would like to help out with story hour.  STORY HOUR!!!!!!! That is seriously my LIFE’S FONDEST DREAM.  I get to sit in a sunny, homey library among the colorful children’s books, and do my best Reading Rainbow-esque narration of a children’s story for dozens of fresh-faced, glowing children. And, as if all of that isn’t enough,  this library ALSO is complete with a full cast of eccentric “regulars,” like homeless Jack and crazy-vest Holly who only reads mysteries…..basically I am in HEAVEN.  I have almost completely forgotten that I’m here by court order.

The point of this incredibly pointless-seeming story is that even the most odious burdens can turn around to produce random little blessings.  Because, like….it SUCKS that I got in trouble, and it’s been miserable trying to arrange community service. But if none of that had happened, then I would never be sitting here in my circulation desk throne, basking in the late afternoon sun as it pours through colored glass, and discussing whether or not spring has come with my new favorite regular, Eugene.

 

 

You know what, Eugene?  I think it has.

dissatisfaction, and the return of Winthrop.

Helloz.

I’m at my desk right now in the ever thrilling and electrifying Academic Computing Department.  I’m supposed to be writing some kind of a user’s manual for some kind of new software (clearly I possess ample knowledge for the creation of this manual…), but I legit cannot stay awake doing it soOoOo I’m taking a break.

Life has, of course, been extraordinarily eventful and magical lately.  Highlights of the week have been:
-Getting out of my 3-hour Monday night seminar in time for Gossip Girl
-Using multiple promotional codes to get an entirely free set of prints from Snapfish
-Signing up to take a three hour Test of Writing Competency on Friday night so that West Chester will let me become an English teacher.
-Finishing the user’s manual for our new set of scanners at work (lolz, goooood luck to everyone using those…)
-Creating Bingo Boards for all of my classes using the commonly used vocabulary of each professor—the only effective method I have found so far for staying remotely conscious in any of my classes.

……….I could go on and on, but I don’t want anyone to enviously implode with how much they wish they had my life.

Another awesome event this week was that my laptop computer—Winthrop, as he is affectionately called—DIED on Saturday.  So obviously I had multiple nervous breakdowns and was preparing to sign up for a set of bereavement sessions to try to ease the goodbye, as well as sign up for a bunk in the local homeless shelter since paying for a new computer would pretty much fully do me in financially. SO, I was pretty much resigned to this course of action, but as a last ditch effort I decided to bring my computer to work on Monday.  I work alongside many computer savvy individuals (do NOT ask me how I got hired), and I was hoping that somebody here could find a way to resuscitate poor Winthrop.  WELL, I mentioned it to a fellow at work who I completely adore and have a major crush on (well, I do now, anyway), and, as I watch breathlessly, he picks up my poor lifeless computer and does all this magical smoke-and-mirrors handiwork involving the battery and the power cord and the fan and the power button, and just totally goes wild doing things I would never have even a clue to to try doing.  AND SUDDENLY, I hear the familiar, soothing hum of Winthrop waking up, and his lights start blinking and his fan starts whirring and I PRACTICALLY START SOBBING AND ALMOST SUBJECT MY BEAUTIFUL WONDERFUL COWORKER TO A TEARFUL MAKE OUT SESSION TO CONVEY MY ETERNAL GRATITUDE.  But I managed to restrain, and instead just let out an emotional yelp and clapped him gratefully on the back, and which I’m sure, if asked, he would have chosen as the preferable course of action anyway.  But it was a SERIOUSLY GREAT MOMENT, because I had pretty much resigned myself to eternal bad luck and a life of destitution, and I was so RELIEVED that, in this particular situation, things were redeemed.

In other news, I am getting a new senior citizen buddy (R.I.P. Helen) tomorrow, and I also joined the Best Buddies program.  Which officially brings my senior citizen/handicapped friend quota to a tie with my real life school friend quota!  ::high fives self::  ::begins silently weeping::  Great times.  But I actually am excited about it, and hopefully my senior citizen buddy will be as much of a badass as Helen was.  Doubtful, but maybe.

In OTHER other news, we had a new poem assignment for my sweet poetry workshop, which was to write a poem that ties in some way with a fairy tale or myth.  As much as I—and you, I’m sure—love when I post poems on here, mine was seriously SUCH A TRAVESTY OF WRITING that I honestly hope I never, ever see it again.  I was so disappointed too, because it’s a pretty sweet assignment.  But literally, all my ideas were terrible and I could not write even two lines together that sounded remotely not horrible.  And unfortunately it’s a workshop class, so we’re going to be reading aloud and critiquing all the poems.  And everybody was already totally mean about my last poem, (“I feel that this belongs more in a Dr. Seuss book, and less in a college level poetry course…”) so who even KNOWS what kind of verbal and emotional abuse I will be forced to face this time.

Up. Setting.

As far as The Big Transfer goes, I’m submitting applications and sending transcripts and getting affairs in order as we speak.  But I’m STRUGGLING as far as pros and cons and making a concrete decision goes, because for every pro that I can think of for transferring, there is also a practical pro for NOT transferring, and for every con I can think of to staying here, there’s also a con for leaving.  DIFFICULT TIMES.  So I’ve started this new method of pro-con list making, where instead of just having simple pros and cons, I also rate each pro or con on a five point scale of how important it is, and add up the totals for each list.  Even so……no concrete decision has been made, so we shall see what we shall seeee.

Shmookayy well I guess it’s time to get back to my exhilarating user’s guide.  Hope life and September are treating you well.  BYE.

moves, money, maribelle

Well I ended up reading a little more than half of those books.  Wooooo, whatever, I’ll get to the rest eventually.

A more pressing matter at hand is that I think I’m transferring.

YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST, FOLKS, I am possibly high-tailing it out of this godforsaken school in search of greener pastures.  All negative eleven of you who read this are the only people I’ve really told so far.  I don’t want to start burning bridges with my West Chester crew until plans have fully solidified, but I’m pretty sure that (fingers crossed), before TOO long I’ll be outta here.  And by “West Chester crew” I mean like, the sixish friends I have here who are quite nice and fine, but who I pretend to like a lot more than I truly do.  Harsh I guess.  Whatever.  I’m really just not happy here, and little by little I feel as though I am losing myself and compromising my character and *pretending to like* a lot of  things that I don’t give a shit about, and pretending NOT to care for or believe in some of the deepest convictions of my heart. And there’s also the more general fact that, across the board, I am not enjoying myself or feeling fulfilled in any area.  So….that’s all pretty terrible. I know where I’m transferring, if I do in fact transfer, but I shan’t disclose at present.

I found a five dollar bill today outside of the office where I work.

In other news, I’m currently taking a poetry class.  The good news about that is that I will hopefully improve my mediocre skillz as a poet.  The bad news about it is that I wrote a poem, and I’m about to copy and paste it on here.  The assignment for this poem was “write a poem from the point of view of someone or something other than yourself.”  Not the most exciting prompt but whatevz.

Home 

I couldn’t say quite when I knew
That West Apartment Twenty-Two
Would be the place I’d hang my hat,
Perhaps it was the attic bat.

It might’ve been the kitchen sink
That served me my first muddy drink.
Or Maribelle in Twenty-Four
Who hung a “Welcome!” on my door.

I cannot tell you why I stayed,
It can’t have been the window shade
That flew up, bludgeoning my nose,
Perhaps the holey garden hose?

It can’t have been the creaky stairs,
The drafty drafts and chilly airs,
But perhaps that lusty rise and fall—-
Maribelle’s singing through the wall.

I doubt it was that smell of cats,
But it might’ve been the rooftop chats,
Maribelle’s curls tousled by the breeze,
Her lace-trimmed hanky when I sneezed.

I’m quite allergic to the mold,
The icy drafts give me a cold,
But there’s a kindly “Do Get Well!”—-
A homemade card from Maribelle.

There’s lots of fixing up to do
In West Apartment Twenty-Two.
A shambles right from roof to floor—
But at least I’ve got the girl nextdoor.

J. Coppa © 2010

Happening

So, I’ve been constructing plans of self-improvement for over the summer.  (I know…YOU can’t think of anything I could possibly improve upon, but after some hard brainstorming I’ve decided on a few areas)  One of my major projects is that I’ve decided to read as many esteemed works of literature as I possibly can this summer, in order to advance my journey towards becoming a respectable and well-read English teacher.  I’ve looked up a lot of “Books You Should Read Before You Die..” lists, and after seeing where they overlap I have created the following list of books that I HAVE TO have read by the end of the summer.

The Fountainhead,  Ayn Rand
Frankenstein,  Mary Shelley
The Big Sleep,  Raymond Chandler
The Catcher in the Rye,  J.D. Salinger
Of Human Bondage, W. Somerset Maugham
The Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner
The Great Gatsby,  F. Scott Fitzgerald
A Clockwork Orange,  Anthony Burgess
The Picture of Dorian Gray,  Oscar Wilde
The Fall of the House of Usher,  Edgar Allen Poe
A Tale of Two Cities,  Charles Dickens
Wuthering Heights,  Emily Bronte
Persuasion,  Jane Austen
Catch-22,  Joseph Heller
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,  Lewis Carroll
The Brothers Karamazov,  Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,  Robert Lewis Stevenson
The Adventures of Huckelberry Finn,  Mark Twain
Madame Bovary,  Gustave Flauberts
1984,  George Orwell
The Heart of Darkness,  Joseph Conrad
The Portrait of a Lady,  Henry James
How to Win Friends and Influence People,  Dale Carnegie
The Divine Comedy,  Dante Alighieri
Love in the Time of Cholera,  Gabriel Garcia Marquez
My Antonia,  Willa Cather
A Good Man is Hard to Find,  Flannery O’Connor
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,  Ken Kesey

I’m kind of ashamed that I haven’t read some of those books already.  Liiiike….Huckleberry Finn?  Hasn’t everyone read that?  Idk where it slipped through the cracks.  But anyway, at least I’m planning to read them.  I figure if I average about two a week till the end of the summer then this is pretty attainable.  I’ve read the first four since being home, and I’m halfway through Of Human Bondage, which, as the name indicates, is a doozy.

Anyway.  You don’t care, presumably, but I figure if I post that up somewhere I’ll be more likely to stick with it.  It’s like those New Years resolutions I graffitied in that turnpike underpass.

So.

.

I’ve been thinking some biggish thoughts lately.  Like, I’ve been having quite the realization.  And I’m not saying it will interest you, but I’m going to talk about it anyway.

I’ve been realizing that I’ve been like….CHILLIN.  In my life.  Like, participating in some major inaction.

I guess I’ve been kind of waiting for LIFE to HAPPEN to me.  Like, I thought that somehow things were just going to start happening to me left and right, and all the sudden one morning I was going to wake up and be this grownup woman with all of her shit together, and with some handsome dude out the window strumming a serenade, and with ideas in her head and a purpose in her heart and like, a CHARACTER all ready and figured out and fabulous.  And I’ve been realizing recently that….nothing just happens.  It really doesn’t.  Which I guess for some people is kind of common knowledge, but, I donno it’s like, NEWS to me.  Because I’ve been expecting things to happen, I really have.  And I’ve been expecting wonderful Grownup Me to literally just show up knocking at my door like “Oh hey, I think it’s time I stepped in for my shift.”  And I’m sure YOU all probably knew this already but—-that isn’t going to happen!  The person that I am right now is the same person who is going to be me as a grownup, and the same person who is going to pursue my dreams, and raise my children, and wet my bed at the nursing home.

So like, if I want that person to be somebody awesome, then I need to actively pursue that awesomeness, and I need to do it kind of now.  If I want to be well-read and intelligent and full of sense and classic knowledge, then I better read some effing books.  If I want to be beautiful, then I better determine how I plan to go about doing that, and go about it.  If I want to meet wonderful people, then I better use my head and figure out that wonderful people don’t just tap you on the shoulder at the grocery store, and that maybe if I start doing some wonderful things then the people might naturally show up.  If I want to be rich, then I better realize that the odds of a sexy Arabian oil sheik popping the question are like, not great, and that maybe I should actually save up some cash.  If I want some great love story to befall me, then maybe I better turn into somebody worth loving.

.

Like I said, you probably knew all of this, and maybe you’ve already set off on your way to becoming who you want to be.

But DAMN.  For me, this was all quite a massive awakening.

poor pierre

I should definitely be sleeping right now siiince I’m exhausted and I have work in the morning.  Unfortunately my body has “go to sleep after 2am” SO deeply ingrained in its inner clock that I’m pretty sure my five hr per night sleep schedule is with me for the long haul. Sooooooo, why not write on here?

I have a new job, which is the joyous duty call that I will be waking up for in a few hours.  It’s 50 hours a week of changing diapers, wiping runny noses, reading board books, and doing the hokey pokey.  And even though it’s kind of extremely tiring, I kind of extremely love it.  Every day I have nine wide eyed, toddling 16 month-olds in my care, and something about it seriously just makes my heart swell.  Now obvz there are some downsides, such as poop, crying, boogers, slobber, and the fact that I’m only allowed to wear jeans on Fridays…but, I feel that in the grand scope of things, the upsides will outweigh these setbacks.

A MAJOR downside that I didn’t include in that list is that Imma have to quit Panera.  YEP.  You heard me.  Walk out on My Love.  I will no longer be in the employ of MY FUTURE HUSBAND.  :SOB:….I’m really torn up about it.  At first I was like…’I can totally swing this, I’ll just work there on the weekends.’  Then I realized that my weekends are going to become treasured sanctuaries of peace and personal retreat, and that if I have to work during them I will literally run my head through the bread slicer.  SO.  I am forced to cut ties with that beloved establishment forever.  I haven’t gone in yet to deliver the news…both due to my own regret, and the fact that I know I will be shattering my boss’s heart into a million tiny shards.  But I’m planning to go this weekend.  I can safely say that it will be among the top 40 hardest things I’ve had to do.  The only positive part of this is that now he won’t have to stoically hide his feelings from me any longer, which I know he was doing because he wanted to maintain appropriate professional boundaries.  But NOW that I won’t work there anymore…….DOT DOT DOT.  Oh yes.

In other news, I turned 19, and I finished my first year of college.

….YOU don’t care, and I don’t care…but I felt I should mention it.

Tonight I went to Blockbuster.  I know that you THINK you know where this is headed….yoooou think I’m going to talk about My Man at Blockbuster.  Well, you’re wrong.  I actually wanted to tell you that there was A SQUIRREL in Blockbuster.  I AM NOT KIDDING YOU, a LIVING, BREATHING SQUIRREL.  I freaked. out.  I walked in and My Man (ok, ok…he IS in the story) was like “yo there’s a squirrel in here”, and I was like “Oh haha good one, what new releases ar—” and SUDDENLY this fucking squirrel goes like darting across the top of the new release wall.  I am telling you…..I let out the loudest scream that I have EVER emitted in a public location.  Squirrels are GROSS, man.  And I consider Blockbuster one of my homes away from home, so the presence of this rodent was extremely disturbing.  And it was also disturbing that My Man, someone who I’ve always felt that I shared a kindred spirit with, felt so nonchalant about the whole situation.  Shouldn’t he have been DOING something about it?  Like locating a shot gun or some kind of a poison dart rifle?  Honestly, the whole experience was just shocking to me.  I have to seriously rethink my supposed kindred-ness with this man, as well as whether or not it is safe or proper to continue my patronage of Blockbuster.   Naz. tay.

I got my GPA for the 2nd semester/the year, and it was like…not bad.  At all.  Which probably isn’t shocking to you since I come across as such a prodigious genius in my blog entries, but it was definitely shocking to ME, because, honestly…I did pretty much no work second semester.  This was 50% because I pretty much always slack off regardless of what is happening, and 50% because I had a lot of shit going on, such as new internship, having charges pressed against me, being on the speech team, traveling with the speech team, getting kicked off the speech team, watching LOST, playing Tetris….there was just a lot going on.  So I really just basically invested NOTHING in my studies.  For example, I didn’t buy any textbooks.  I intended to at the beginning of the semester, but I just thought I would scope it out first and see how much we ACTUALLY used the textbooks in the classes, and then suddenly it was halfway through the semester, and we weren’t using textbooks all that often, and I had enough friends in class that I could borrow one if we did anddd……I just never bought them.  I also did not complete a single paper earlier than the night before, AND I didn’t study for anything because I’m a terrible studier with major attention issues.  What I’m saying, is that I was expecting a truly LOUSY GPA for the semester.  One that I would have to defend to the honors college, my parents, you, etc.  But SOMEHOW I ended up getting like, a GREAT one.  And I’m not bringing this up in a self-praising way, because I am fully aware that, as far as school is concerned, I’m kind of a worthless shit.  I’m bringing this up out of true surprise and enjoyment at the fact that like….West Chester and my academic career in college thus far, are a total joke.  And so be it.

Today at work during Circle Time I read a book to the toddz called “Pierre:  Who Didn’t Care” or something along those lines.  And basically it was a story about this bratty kid who responds to everything that happens in his life by saying “I Don’t Care!”, and in the end he ends up getting eaten by a tiger or something.  It’s obviously a cautionary tale against apathy, which I get, and which I agree with.  But while I was reading it, I thought about whether or not I am like Pierre.  You know? Like, whether or not I’m a non-engaged apathetic asshole.  And I decided that I am definitely, definitely not.  Which SHOULD be relieving, you know, cause now I won’t get consumed by a jungle beast.  But while that is obviously a huge load off of my mind, I continued to think about it as I laid my kiddies down to nap, and I came to the conclusion that a lot of the time, I care too much.  This had already been something that I had been mulling over because of some recent events, but Pierre really caused me to explore the idea further.  And it’s definitely true.  Like, as terrible as it is to go through life with an “I don’t care!” attitude, it also kind of sucks on the reverse end of things, where you become attached and invested in things that, really, don’t matter at all.  Which might not lead you to being consumed by a vicious jungle cat, but it COULD cause you to be consumed by your own idiotic emotions and attachments and caring-ness when no one around you gives a shit.  And this can really suck, and, in my opinion, hurt more than being eaten alive.

……aaaccttualllyy that does sound pretty painful.  So I take it back.  But it definitely sucks.

WELL, I’m falling asleep.  And you DEFINITELY are after that pointless rant.  So let’s wrap this up.

good night.

-EDIT-
Pierre was actually eaten  by a lion. …whatever.

gimme a break

Hi there.

First of all, apologies for the sub-par (to put it generously) poetry that has showed up on here as of late.  I have this MISERABLE (once again, being generous) English class, where all  I do is write poems and/or letters, and it makes me sad to just chuck the poems out.  So the next best alternative is to stick them on here, which, really, is sort of my cyber waste paper basket anyway.

Right now I am sitting in my hotel room in Allentown, PA (bleh), on the final night of the American Forensic Association district tournament.  This has been a pretty relaxed tournament for me, because I’ve already qualified my main speech for both national tournaments, and I JUST brought out this other speech (which sucks) so I’m not all that invested in its success.  So, nerves-wise, this tourney has been a nonevent.  Which is good.  What ISN’T good is that this is the first fucking weekend of spring break, and here I am chilling in my empty (my roomie’s having an intense boyfriend phone talk out in the hall) hotel room, dead tired and dreading waking up at 6am, but also UNABLE to fall asleep for some reason.  Aaaah.

Anyway.

I’m pretty excited to have this week off, because LAST week was pretty much the worst week I’ve had in recent memory, and it’ll be nice to possibly sleep and spend some good old q.time at the cabana.  And also to see my long lost buddieeez.

It strikes me, writing on here, that my life has been pretty mundane lately.  Usually I have at least like one life highlight to share, and honestly nothing is even coming to mind right now.  My life is just at a boring, boring place.  And it makes me want to cry, kind of, because I feel like there is no time in life for boring stretches.  Because I’m going to die one day, sooner or later, and as I’m gasping out my last breaths in whatever way that’s going to end up happening, I KNOW that I am going to be wishing that I had spent these mundane stretches of my life differently.  Which may be a strange or depressing thing to think about, but if you DO actually think about it for a minute, it’s like, shit.  I better find me some adventure. 

Which is how I feel.

…I don’t mind confessing on here that my life is lame and boring, because I feel like if you’re reading this (which, most likely, you’re not, but IF you are) thennn your life is probably in about the same place.  Or at least your day.

Exciting news is that me and Richard Roeper have THE EXACT SAME Oscar predictions.  Seriously, I sketched up my projected winners last week, and just tonight I watched Roeper’s little Oscar Predictions special, and I was like “Honestly, Richard.  I’m glad to see you have your fucking spies in my camp.”  While I was watching it, though, I decided that if my life plans A, B, and C fall through, that I would TOTALLY ENJOY having my own show where I reviewed movies.  First of all, I would be wonderful at it (clearly), plus I would be super mean and entertaining, and I really think that I could give old R.R. a run for his money.  Probably not, but.  It would be a fun job.

Anyway, I’m actually going to attempt some sleep so that I get more than like zero hours.  I hope you, my devoted and numerous readers, enjoyed this rollicking “kicking off spring break” post!  Woooooooo.

I wish I was drunk right now.

Procrastination Pome

When I think about the sky
Schoolwork fades away…
It seems a trifle, seems a lie
When set against the massive sky.

And of the slipping sands of time
I cannot think enough,
There seems no reason, seems no rhyme
To giving school my precious time.

And when the ocean fills my head
Nothing else will fit!
I swim away, and leave behind
The cluttered bookshelves of my mind.

The widespread world, it calls my name
The rolling hills, the wet, deep lakes.
So many people, none the same–
So many ways to take a break.

There are adventures in my books
I don’t want to read them any less,
They’re worth some time, they’re worth a look…
But there’s no adventure in a desk!

A captive scholar, here I sit
Longing so much to leave behind
This dusty jail–”Medieval Lit”
These bored, sad bookshelves in my mind.

I’ll scale these walls that have me trapped,
Escape this stony classroom jail,
I’ll tread the course that I have mapped,
Set off to run, to fly, to sail!
Chase meaning, beauty, far and wide,
And feel no terror, feel no dread
I’ll let adventure be my guide–

If only in my dream-filled head.

©2010

Ode to Definitely Not You From Probably Jule Coppa

I know well that you hate me,
Don’t deny it, sir, it’s true.
You seem to shrink into your skin
At my “how do you do?”

And when I offer you a joke
Or tease your tousled head,
You answer me quite gruffly
Or, just silently turn red.

Now, I think that you should have your choice,
And hate me if you please
But there’s no need to be BOTHERED
If I ‘bless you’ when you sneeze.

I simply want to know you,
Not to be your lifelong friend,
But the moment I make small talk
You bring it bluntly to an end.

I just think we’d get along, you know?
We seem so much alike!
But when I wave and call your name,
You speed off on your bike.

I’m not generally a quitter,
But you seem to be in pain.
So, though I feel it’d be your loss,
I shan’t speak to you again.

Yep, I’m almost quite decided
Our interactions–they must end!
I’ll let you rest your nerves, okay?
I’LL NEVER BE YOUR FRIEND!

But, suddenly, upon my desk
An envelope appears,
From you? Why, no! It couldn’t be!
Not in a million years!

After all, you hate me!
What might you have to say?
It couldn’t be a class-passed note
Just saying “go away”!

Perhaps you really love me!
I’ve known it all along!
You love it when I pester you!
Oh, my heart bursts into song–

I tear it open eagerly,
Cast you a fevered glance,
I remove the neatly folded sheet,
My heart begins to dance—

I read it quickly, and I learn
With some degree of shock,
That my counselor would like a word
With me at three o’ clock.

©2010