On the landing in the summer

Perhaps two or three weeks ago, I recalled a piece someone I once knew had written on the subject of kneeling iai seven, part a. In recalling said piece, I reflected on an old instruction from when I was training for ... green belt? brown belt? Awhile ago. Anyway, the advice was about picturing someone you cared a lot about kneeling before you, mid-seppuku (ritual suicide), waiting for you to sever their neck and hasten an already painful death.

For me it was always K., a constant act of vigilance and faith at the beginning of class, an ordinary moment made extraordinary simply by the fact that then, and only then, would I allow myself to see her before me. I carried that isolated feeling, the power of being her imaginary second, well past the days when we actually had to spend time together (slow, slow torture), past graduating from high school, past turning eighteen and the first half of college.

And then, one day, the girl under my sword changed into someone else from the past, lovely darkblonde hair turning deep brown, clear blue eyes turning greener. It threw me to see another there, welling up from my subconscious, making me feel strange and slightly sick after the kiai. But I took it, you know, because as long as the iai looks halfway to respectable, what does it matter what soft neck I need to pretend is under the katana?

Two nights ago I dreamed that K. broke into my room in Brown to find me eating a late dinner after a Thursday class. She tossed her long hair back, haughty, proud, and demanded why she wasn't in my kneeling seven anymore. I told her that there were so many other lost connections in my life by now that it was only natural. She slapped me once, right cheek and then left cheek, and told me not to give up.

It reminded me of how, right in the beginning when I was so young and raw and hurting, I would dream before the opening of class. I imagined testing for my first degree black belt (as I'm sure we've all daydreamed about), imagined righteously deep stances and beautiful partner work. In the midst of all of this, I imagined those two smooth glass doors opening, my pupils dilating at the sight of her, coiled tense and beautiful, with the deepest blue eyes fixed on me. A pointless dream, that a near-stranger would travel across the country simply to watch a black belt test in her hometown, but one that unashamedly motivated me.

So when we did kneeling seven tonight, and our instructor reminded us that it is appropriate to gaze slightly downwards, I was projecting the same pale white skin below me. In exchange I got the same feeling of intensity as we swept downwards as one, all slicing cleanly and honorably through the necks of people who would probably be horrified to know their role, however hypothetical.

I like to think you might shiver, even now, knowing this part of my experience is sunk so deeply in you.

one magnet to another

What were you doing 10 years ago?
In the spring of 1998, I was looking forward to turning ten and being ... in the double digits? In fifth grade? To be honest, I don't remember a whole lot before about twelve.
That was the summer we went to Helsinki, Finland and Stockholm, Sweeden -- a trip whose many marvels I have not forgotten.

Name five things on today's "to do" list.
-clean kitchen / bathroom
-grocery shop
-buy E. some birthday presents
-give my horse some kisses and a good workout
-start a new mix cd

If I were a billionaire ...
I would buy a beautiful piece of land just outside Albermarle and rescue horses; and I would write on the side.

Name three bad habits you have.
Getting stressed about little things that don't really matter, general perfectionism, and self-depricating comments.

List five places you've lived.
Ivy, Virginia (1988-2000)
Charlottesville, Virgina -- in Greenbriar (2000-2006), on-grounds (twice- 2006-2007 and 2007-2008 school years), on Fontaine Avenue (summer 2007), and on JPA (summer 2008).

Name five jobs you've held.
Full-time Student
Unpaid Horse Trainer / Groom
Office Assistant (read: paper bitch)
FCC Grill Busser / Host (read: kitchen bitch)
RMDS Transformative Digitizer (read: digital bitch)

there's a low moon caught in your tangles

No, I haven't quite slipped off the face of the planet yet. Things have been too wild, too crazy, too busy recently, with finals dragging on forever and the messy process of two people moving twice.

That is me telling you that the past couple weeks have been stressful in all kinds of ways -- I have been frustrated, and angry, and sad (and I'm sure I've inspired similar feelings in other people as well). You have my apologies for not being patient and relaxed, but understand that I can't help it. Packing up and moving is something that I deal with as a undergraduate and will no doubt deal with for awhile thereafter, but the sight of everything I own in cardboard boxes and laundry bags makes me anxious (no matter how organized it is!). For me, the ultimate comfort is being in a space surrounded by my posessions -- whether that's the sweatshirt I stole from L. six years ago, my sword bag standing in the corner waiting for the next class, or the happy birthday note scribbed on the back of an envelope from Inga, to which I've attached sticky notes from E. and B.

It's been stressful, but I'm glad that the semester has finished up and I'm ready to start the summertime. We're moving this evening into the fabled House of Dimes (which makes my decidedly non-dramatic self slightly nervous), and my last academic assignment is due by Monday at noon (just a late paper revision). Then I have three more days and work starts Thursday morning.

I'm a little bit looking forward to spending full days in Harrison / Small -- it's going to be more interesting and more active, particularly with other people like C. there to keep me company. I'll miss the graduated fourth years, but not their drama and their annoying moments. I mean, sure, it still means being locked in a windowless underground dungeon-chamber for most of the day, but I think it will be more than just okay.

On tap for today is a little bit of last-minute packing, calling Rick (and going to see the a/c unit?), PONIES (hopefully with little Andi), lots of showering, food food food, and moving house.

A bientot.

reading: email inbox
listening to: the way i am // ingrid michaelson

I was nineteen, calling

Another semester is racing toward its finale, and I am nothing if not a sickening mix of stressed and excited.

I refuse to make any predictions about the summertime, because I don't want to be disappointed. I think that I will be happy, and it will be enough. And really, everything else like work and traveling and whatever is uninvolved and only of mild importance.

My body bends. I'm having trouble typing since this is what I've been doing for the last five (six?) hours.

I have entry upon entry plotted out in my head, and yet when I grab these moments in both hands, I can't remember what I wanted to say.

Here is the next week--

Friday: paper due at 5. workout???
Saturday: errands in town -> British History final, 2-5 -> drive to Williamsburg, return with E.
Sunday: class? -> whatever
Monday: edit French papers, prep for Enlt review session -> class
Tuesday: Enlt review session, 12noon (?) -> sell textbooks back -> class
Wednesday: turn in two French papers -> move out of dorms
Thursday: Enlt final, 2-5pm -> class
Friday (workout) or Saturday -> move into Sophi's room

I'm just going to go now.

listening to : Tegan and Sara
reading : feministing.com

i could speak italian

I can now change the oil in my car (and, presumably, in other cars as well).

Parkour = something I want to play with more.

I also am in posession of a loaner pair of drumsticks, and will henceforth proceed to drum loudly on all available surfaces.

Have I mentioned how awesome life really is?

listening to : kanye
reading : feministing.com

and in this place we stagnate

It figures that, just as I start to get twitchy and feel like just soaking up the afternoon sunshine isn't enough, a huge peal of thunder cracks overhead. I really want it to pour, and it seemed like it would earlier, but now I'm not sure.

Lazy afternoon / evening, you know? School is so close to over. I wish I could move before next week.

There are things I need and things I want, but unfortunately, times are tight and free cash is in short supply. Recession is coming (recession is here?) and I am lucky that I am secure in all the big things, and that I have a job.

That being said, there is no question that my horse's expenses come before my own. If the money is optional, it's going for him. After that, it's any equipment I need for MS (thankfully, those expenses are rarer), and then car / gas stuff, and then me.

I'm seriously considering working 40 hours / week over the summer, like an actual working lady. It would suck not to get a third day off, but I'm thinking it might be necessary.

I'm going to take a shower, try and get some work done, and perhaps go running later. It's getting dark outside the window and I want so badly to be back in the morning, to let that lightness and warmth and closeness carry on.

reading: nothing
listening to: st. peter's bones // girlyman

I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things

Parce que l’ennui de Jérôme et Sylvie se tourne sur le matérialisme, il est à la fois un symbole et un symptôme d’un plus grand mal dans la société contemporaine. Selon Perec, ce besoin de se soutenir avec les choses est un problème parce que les choses matérielles ne peuvent pas provider le bonheur concrète.
[translates as]
Because the "ennui" from which Jérôme and Sylvie suffer turns upon the axis of materialism, it is at once a symbol and a symptom of a greater evil in their societal experience. In Perec's opinion, this need to underlay/support oneself with mere things is a problem, because material things can never provide a solid happiness.

That's the paragraph I'm working on right now. We're at the bottom of page three (out of four) THANK GOD. This paper, like so many French papers before it and oh so oh so many to come, is making me want to drown myself in the shower. I don't know why I can handle papers in English with such finesse and French papers drive me up the fucking wall, but that's the way it is.

On the bright side, I'm only a paragraph and a half away from calling it a night (about another half hour), and J. made me a squid! I love it. My reward for finishing this paper of ennui/death, aside from the excellent reward of collapsing into sleep, will be to name the squid and to title the blank CD that B. is going to fill for me.

I've got a few ideas about both but I guess we'll have to wait and see.

listening to: only the good die young // billy joel
reading: redaction 2 -- l'ennui comparitif selon Zola (La Curee) et Perec (Les Choses)