A long time coming

It's been a long time since I last wrote here. Frankly, it's been a long time since I've last written the way I used to write, anywhere.

Here is a little, tiny update on the goings-on since then:

I am making some changes and taking steps to move forward. I am applying to graduate school and hoping someone will accept me on volunteer experience, great letters of recommendation, and enthusiasm. I am also hoping they will not notice how desperate I am that they do notice me.

I am attending a handful of weddings each year. It's obnoxious. Even yours.

Cheddar hasn't gotten better at living with Midnight peacefully, so again I anticipate graduate school so I can remove both of us from her bad behavior.

It appears as though I may finally break my every-other summer tradition and not travel far and wide this year. This makes me sad, but I (once more - HOPEFULLY) will have school and related adjustments to occupy my attention, at least at the end of the summer.

And finally, I am still having strange and prophetic dreams about people and places I don't often think about. The dreams make me recall these things and think about them frequently, which is interesting. Does God want me to re-evaluate? And if so, why?

That's all I have. Some specifics, some vagueness, all 100% pure Maggie pattie.

A dream

I had the strangest and most insightful dream last weekend. It went a little something like this:

I am having dinner at a restaurant with Friend A. As in all dreams certain things are assumed; this dream is no different. The restuarant is uncharacteristically upscale for my budget and, based on the high level of excitement of Dream Me, in a different city or country. Friend A and I are having a great time talking with each other and generally enjoying each other's company. When the meal is over the waitress brings our checks and Friend A pays with credit. The waitress comes back to retrieve our checks and respective payments and returns with copies for us to sign. I look at Friend A's receipt and notice their signature bears a striking resemblance to Friend B, heretofore not physically present but in Dream Me's cloudy thoughts. I grab the receipt signed by Friend A in an effort to better see the signature, and it turns out the name signed is none other than Friend B's. Why? Because suddenly Friend A has morphed into Friend B. I am surprised and happy to see Friend B but I feel an overwhelming sense of loss at the disappearance of Friend A. I begin to wonder what happened and if Friend A was Friend B all along.

Then the dream ends.

So there.

I was astounded at the ignorance of a man I met last Sunday night. In response, this is what I should like to quote, if I ever happen to see him again:

"The World Health Organization estimates that climate change is already helping to kill 150,000 people a year, mainly in Africa and Asia. That number is bound to rise as global warming intensifies in the years ahead."

Mark Hertsgaard, "While Washington Slept; The Queen of England is Afraid." Vanity Fair (May 2006).

How can I be happy knowing that the things that bring me petty luxuries - air conditioning, an affordable car, plastic spoons in restaurants - are contributing to the sufferings of others who have never enjoyed such things? How can I sit back and let someone else take the blame, myself choosing to ignore the evidence and finding solace in saying, "It's over for them anyways..."? How can anyone be so cold, so cruel, and so selfish as to turn their back on people in need of help, especially when the need has been intensified by my own actions and inaction?

This is why I now study, in the hope that one day my studies will culminate in progressive action instead of retorts.

?

Do you ever take a step back from your life and think, "WHAT THE FUCK?"

I have recently come to the realization that my life is not only on a chain, but also a conglomeration of "Huh?"s and "ORLY?"s. I mean seriously: what the fuck.

I woke up this morning knowing something weird was going to happen today, and it did, but I can't tell you what it was because it's not something I can put into words. It's that feeling halfway between complete doom and complete freedom - the way the Earth looks right before a huge storm that never happens transcribed to human experience.

I have no idea what is going on. Maybe someone slipped more overdue Shirataki noodles into my soup when I was in the bathroom smelling the soap - I don't know. What I do know is that the world is either going to explode or implode at a time not too far from now, and then all this - the research, the interviewing, that bitchy little nurse who has it out for me - will amount to an ethnography of something no one will ever be able to read.

What the fuck.

How very pixelated of you.

This picture was taken in 2003. Four years is not a long time for world politics and global warming, strides in cancer research and understanding the fossil record. Four years is nothing to shake a stick at when you're looking at the big, albeit subjective, picture. It is, however, a very long time when those years encompass the end of adolescence and the beginning of adulthood.

Most of the six "kids" and single adult initially seen as the focal point of this picture have changed so dramatically since this picture was taken it almost shocks me to recall that there was a time before things are as they are today. Let's begin on the left, rotating clockwise through all seven persons.

This girl was always loud. I distinctly remember one time when we were kids that she was not allowed to come over to play because she would disrupt the quiet order and overthrow the hierarchy otherwise unchallenged in the Kennedy regime. It was no different when we graduated high school and the summer after she sought employment where I had been working for the past two years; her paycheck seemed to be based on hourly wages determined by the sheer volume of her voice when she was on the clock. I once made the grave mistake of going to a party with her ; apparently, beer sparks violent (and violently loud) debate among people of this kind. I drove her drunk and screaming person home, wondering how the hell she'd ever earn the respect she needed from a serious employer to get a job worth all I knew she was capable of achieving.

She is now in the Air Force. Her mother couldn't be more proud.

Moving on to the next person in the picture, a girl sporting a cow bandanna is utterly fascinated by whatever the girl across from her is doing. This person, incidentally, is me. I won't say much for myself; if you've read anything from the beginning, middle, and end of this long autobiography, you can easily see the change for yourself. I will indulge myself for a moment, however, and say that the girl in this picture was afraid of three things particularly: dogs, college, and her own hoo-hah. She is now accustomed to all three.

The next person you see was always a bitch. I haven't seen her since roughly the time this picture was taken. I assume not much has changed.

The woman in the black jacket who almost seems to be in the background has a rather tragic story of change, though her beauty still lives on. Here, you will observe a proud mother of one and a loving and happy wife who makes religion easy to understand. She teaches teens about how God relates to her and how He can relate to them, even if she has to admit her own flaws and shortcomings in doing so. She is in love with her husband and adores her daughter. Everything radiates from her in an aura of confidence and grace.

Four months after the camera clicked, her husband died instantly in a motorcycle accident. She got on with her life, remembering him daily but not letting the loss become a burden. A few months later, she found out she was pregnant and declined to teach religious education, fearing she would set a "bad example" for her students. Through everything, she held her head high and did not relinquish her faith. Today, she is in her second marriage to the father of her second child.

The girl next to this woman in the picture is an old childhood friend of mine - perhaps the closest friend I've ever had. Like me, she grew up in a religious family with one older sister just a block away. She is entirely into her faith and believed in the good of the Southern American lifestyle. Her mother always calls you shug [shuhg] instead of sugar in the thickest Alabama accent imaginable. This girl believes in the FFA, Jesus, and cole slaw.

Today, she is five months pregnant with her first son as a result of a young marriage gone sour. Her belly is beautiful.

The boy directly to her left is someone I've known since he was knee-high. Our families were always close. He, being a few years younger than me and perhaps rightly believing that girls are gross, always preferred to hang out with "the dads" whenever our families would get together, while I'd play with his littlesister and Erin would gossip with his older sister. He'd always been a cute little kid, but always that: a kid.

This picture was taken when he was a teenager, which was weird enough. Now he is in his first year of college. He's old enough that his little sister will have her driver's license this spring.

The last girl on the right is the most easily recognizable person in this picture. I will opt to bite my tongue and simply comment on the staying, sexualizing power some boys have on the girls they date.

I find it remarkable when looking back at old pictures how time can distort your reaction. Four years ago, this was just another picture taken in the airport when we had the Layover of Doom in Atlanta. Four years ago, this was just another picture from the National Catholic Youth Convention of 2003. Four years ago, these were just some people I was friends with or knew in passing.

Today, they are all their own persons. Today, they are all adults with their own stories, perhaps with the exception of that one bitchy girl.

Wrapped up like a douche

Today is perfectly wintry, even though it's not winter. Just thought I'd share the clouds.

R u my baby?

A veddy good night

I just came back from seeing West Side Story with my beaux. I truly enjoy a second musical, the first being Les Miserables.

I am done rescheduling my Spring schedule, twentieth and for all. I am also done with all necessary assignments for the semester, which is exciting. I rewarded myself by skipping class today, which was even more fulfilling than I ever could have dreamed. That's right; meganap.

Currently listening to Unprotected Sax on NPR and thinking about the cold weather tomorrow. I'll be sporting a turtleneck and perhaps a scarfie as well, just to be cute and overdone.

Something on me smells like heaven. I wish I could figure out what it is. Does that ever happen to you?

Time to indulge myself in a book not related to the classes I am SO over. Enjoy this beautiful night.