So I spent the week in Boone, in Kill Devil Hills, interstates, in between. I collected starfish and scrabble losses, found a charm bracelet at an antique store, found a washed up weather buoy (above) that stood at about 15-20 feet tall, found fear at the crest of a hill on some detour with a wall of cloud in front of us, tornado funnels peeking like fingers from its belly. We sang songs, Z. and I, kept each other entertained the whole 6 hours back and forth. We spent the last night in a hotel in Winston-Salem for fear of going towards eastern Tennessee where the tornadoes were apparently spawned. I ate alligator on the shore. I saw a wedding from a kayak on the Sound, heard the classical guitars wafting over the waves, watched in my bathing suit. I scraped my foot on a duck blind, the scar will be wicked. I got sunburn. I made promises, made sure.

I’m in a friend’s dorm room now, too tired to take the last 5 hrs today. I miss Z., who can blame me? Don’t know exactly when I’ll see him again (June, sometime). This is the last hurdle before we become short distance, become a solid item, become the unit that faces the future (apartments, baltimore, everything.)

He got me through a tornado with my head in my knees and my shoulders all shaking. He tells me things are alright, that they will be alright, don’t panic. He tells me I am beautiful. I pulled a spirit card (El. showed me her deck, I was quick to try it) that told me the tornado was a learning experience, learning how to open up and trust others, to not be so guarded.

I didn’t mean to go off on this tangent, or maybe I did. I’m more private than I let on, I think, guarded yes, but open. Mirah says it best:

you know all of my secret ideas
the ones i’m giving up on and the ones i’ll keep
and everybody sees a funny look in our eyes
cos we know that we already won the sweepstakes prize

i ask you if you ever think that maybe
it’s what’s inside of us that drives us crazy
fingers feeling underneath your skin
there’s blood and bones and some rivers to fall in

i’m so lucky cos i asked you once, ‘hey what are you doing?
do you wanna come up for a cup of tea?
come visit with me
we’ll play guitars and I’ll give you my number

i’d tell you why but i don’t know
it’s simple and so complicated
i could walk all day on the railroad tracks
but there’s much more to it than that

mirah – sweepstakes prize

What a weekend indeed. I have neglected you recently, poor wordpress, and for that I apologize. This weekend I took El. to Boone with me to meet some new people.

Friday: We arrived in mid-afternoon, at which I promptly took somewhat of a nap as Z. checked my oil and transmission fluid (the car was acting weird on the drive). Both seemed somewhat in order though the former was a gross color and perhaps needed to be changed. Then we set out for Cookout, where I got gross food and then took an antibiotic too fast. I spent the next twenty minutes attempting to sleep while Z. took us on a tour of the Blue Ridge Parkway, then up to Howard’s Knob (the mountain that overlooks Boone.) My stomach finally settled and we headed down to hang out on campus, before possibly seeing D. in an ensemble.

It was very spring-like to see a mallard duck at the duck pond had ducklings. I’m such a city girl, Z. says, as I have never seen ducklings before. Not in the wild at least. I chased after them with my cellphone aloft, trying to take decent pictures (cursing about leaving the camera in the car.) We never did make it back there for actual pictures of the little fuzzballs. We headed over to cut back to the car, and ran into D.’s parents by the statue of Yosef. After that I took a migraine induced nap while Z. and El. chatted, then we went to D.’s for the evening to watch (and in my case, sleep through) No Country for Old Men.

Saturday: The day started at noon when we woke up. We went to Our Daily Bread for lunch with Ma., one of Z.’s friends, and had delicious (SERIOUSLY DELICIOUS) sandwiches. Um… then we passed time, I can’t exactly remember how. I think we left El. at the App Library for a while to spend time alone, then got ready for Z.’s first solo show that night. The show was located in the tiny second floor of the coffee shop beansTalk in downtown Boone. Poor Z. was so nervous, but I think he did a fabulous job. The second act, eh. Then Mika/ElfOwl played and… wow. One thing in the world I wish I had, a unique and talented singing voice.

After that, we purchased some drinks and went back to D.’s where, after the guys had an extended jam session, we teamed up to play drunken clue, and drunken charades (though we had sobered up impressively by the latter, and yet still played.) El. wound up staying at D.’s and the privacy was well appreciated.

These three hours get more painful each time I travel them.

Sunday: The day started again around noon, Z. and I had hot pockets for lunch and then the four of us headed out on what I shall now refer to as the Surprise!Epic Hike. I was under the impression we were going to take a drive on the Parkway, instead we parked at Cone Manor and took what wikipedia describes as a “leisurely hike.” I beg to differ. Since I had only thought that we were taking a drive, I foolishly wore flip flops.

Four and a half miles of leisurely hiking.

In flip flops.

In the mild to moderate but consistent downpour.

This was the first picture I took.
See that glimmer of lake down there?
Yeah. That’s where we hiked to. And back.

It probably wasn’t that impressive of a hike to most, but as Z. and I have proclaimed often, we are indoors kids. We don’t hike really. D. and El. got way ahead of us, made it back to the car a half hour before we did. I swear when Z. and I made it to the top of the mountain again we looked like we had survived the apocalypse. We drove back, warmed up, and had a nice dinner at mountain house before dropping the boys off at a show and heading on our own three hour drive back home.

One of the best weekends ever, but I miss Z. the most that I’ve ever missed anything now.

Oh life.

Finals week is going to be fun, and by fun I mean a new kind of hell. I won’t list for you what I have to do, suffice it to say it won’t be fun.

Hopefully the boys will come visit this weekend for the Mayfest.

edit: Still not asleep, so instead I will recommend some new musicians to you:

Lloyd & Michael (tweeish, not what you would expect from the name).

Let me also point you to the myspace of The Sprites who have a song called, “I Started a Blog that Nobody Read” which kind of reminds me of the class discussion today.

I can’t tell how I feel about Mike Doughty (this page has streaming music), I’ll get back to you on it.

Scrabbel (yes, spelled that way) has a cool name, but the jury’s also out on this one. It kind of sounds like a less underwater-garbly-midwestern-retro version of Arthur & Yu (but then again, take away A&Y’s muted-like complete rip of every band from the 1960’s sound, and what are you left with?)

Don’t even get me started on A&Y though, I like a few of their songs but kind of as a musical novelty. They were opening for Iron & Wine this past September, and they were pretty bland live. They’re very much a studio band, in terms of the vast difference of sound between the stages (i.e. sounding articulated, mildly interesting, and wholly on key in the studio recordings as opposed to…)

I like bands that can hold their own live, but eh, to each their own.

Just kidding, I listened to their myspace while writing this rant about them, and they’re pretty boring in the studio too. The one good song of theirs is “The Ghost of Old Bull Lee” because it’s the only one that’s really got any complexity to it; alas, I guess it didn’t make it to the myspace.

Two more. Number one comes from the giant music dump I got in the past few weeks, (and now that I’ve had two sources, I can’t remember who this came from) Georgie James. The song I like is “Places” which you can find if you scroll down a little bit, to their embedded application rather than the standard myspace music player.

Number two, I may have mentioned her earlier, but ElfOwl is a friend of Z.’s who makes gorgeous music. She’ll be playing at this show on Saturday night, and I’m psyched to see her sing live. I particularly suggest the song “Marianne” which I definitely mentioned earlier, as it was the inspiration for my poem “Emporia and the Long Drive.”

Ok, I lied. Last one, oldie but goodie (ew, I actually used that phrase.) Matthew Sweet has always been a staple around my house, more recently in his newer band The Thorns, but I am partial to Girlfriend and 100% Fun. In fact, the song “Girlfriend” in particular has been the song I use in the mornings as of late to pump me up. Linking to him is proving difficult, apparently his website is down and his myspace is a more recent collaborative effort of covers with Susanna Hoffs, a name I haven’t heard since I was like, 12, and my dad bought me a cd of hers.

We’ll just go old school. “Sick of Myself.”

So I can’t sleep. So I’m writing here.

The thought’s been plaguing me for a while so I want to put it here: this spring is oddly mirroring last. Sunday night before my mom left the next morning, we ventured to Macado’s for a late night greasy dinner. As we turned the corner to enter the lobby, there was a moment of deja vu under the awning. As I pushed open the door, there sat S. (manager of Macado’s, my cute but ill-fated date of last year who I saw once or twice again afterwards but never for another date) on the bench. I, caught up in the moment, said to my mother rather bitterly, “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” and stalked into the restaurant in my best impression of a-woman-scorned. Mom, having no idea what I was doing, gave the disheveled and up until that moment possibly sleeping boy a smile; he apparently returned with a sheepish grin (her words). When we were safely sequestered in a booth on the second floor I explained the significance.

Mom and I then talked about this spring as a repeat of last, only finding myself in the same situations with a different outlook on life. Talking to M. again. Seeing S. again in his atmosphere (and here I had thought he was history in terms of the restaurant — I did see him once a few weeks ago squiring a young lady into the movie theatre, but only momentarily).

The Wading Girl is playing another show on April 27th, just like they did last year. That was “the magical show,” the one where I bonded with a bunch of drunken seniors, and a stone-sober junior who was slightly forlorn at the fact. We danced and sang, then ate ihop together (the junior and I), and then M. (suprisingly sober) texted me about the plausibility of seeing each other later in the evening (although, technically AM at this point — I know, classy.)

This show though is at Martin’s where the likelihood of getting in for me as a bitter twenty year old is slim. There are no boys these days to vouch for me, say “She’s with us,” or “She won’t cause any trouble.” Hell, there is no somewhat ballsy counterpart who would fight for my admittance while only slightly embarrassing me by repeatedly pointing out that I am just a kid. Loudly.

Anyway.

Everything’s changed. I go downtown and see the same faces, (all the boys with J-names, a Roanoke phenomenon that everyone’s mom decided they needed to be named Jon or Jordan or Jerry or Jason or Justin) but rarely interact (a hello, a ‘how’s it been,’).

I’m a much happier person these days. I wouldn’t trade what I have now for another April 27th or another date at Pop’s.

Speaking of Pop’s, I struck up conversation with one of the owners, and a regular, about film and collecting owls from thrift stores (my new hobby). It was cute, chatting over my strawberry milkshake. That kind of stuff is the Roanoke moments I miss, the times I rarely get anymore what with schoolwork and general malaise.

Tomorrow is Boone Boone Boone, bringing a friend with me so that should be interesting. Z. is playing a solo show on Saturday, and being there for that is more important to me than 1000 april 27ths, more important than all of last year.

Mom is visiting for the weekend; it’s nice, like a ladies vacation. Today I took her downtown where I bought some incense to lighten the  mood of my room, and she bought a coexist bumper sticker. We listened to the mix cd that my younger brother made for each of us (the same one, two copies.) We ate at the restaurant where El. works, I made faces at her through the window and ate too much food (story of my life.) I had two of the hardest sessions at the Writing Center this morning, but the second one was my favorite. RHWD told my mother that I was the ideal advisee, officially signed my honors thesis form, and agreed with me that I am already done my major and minor (woo!)

We watched the Shining tonight, finally renting it from Blockbuster after having no luck purchasing it at Target, Wal-mart, or Best Buy. I even got a legion of Best Buy employees to help scour the racks for the two copies that their computer said were in stock. Mom had never seen it before, and it was my third time. I’m going to write my film paper on the themes of isolation, on how no one spoke to each other really, just at each other.

We mused over tea (and chai) in Mill Mountain. Mom bought me some hemp milk from the Co-Op, hoping to replace my fondness for soy milk (thanks to soy products interfering with thyroid meds.) We’ll see how it tastes.

I called to say goodnight to the boyfriend at around 1:20AM only to find him traversing the mountainous back-roads of “I’m-so-totally-fucking-lost” North Carolina with his friends. It’s silly, but it sent me into Jewish-Girlfriend-level paranoia about cars driving off cliffs and the 1974 version of Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

To quote the Avett Brothers (as I oft find myself doing), “With paranoia on my heels, will you love me still?”

I’m so tired but semi-scared of the prospect of Shining related nightmares. C’est la vie.

Another semi-eventful weekend has passed by. There are four or so weeks left in the semester. Every day I feel a little more like a completely different person than the person last fall, all giddy to be moving into my big old room in far east.

I left dinner tonight with a mild smirk on my face, with a biting, “I’m a beast!”

We (Z. and I) wandered around the Shenandoah rd. factories, took pictures of old cars and rusty metal. It’s weird doing old things with new people. I grew up taking long drives with my dad into farm country where people would leave their 1950s chrome-edged restoration projects by the side of the road, and we’d take pictures with his behemoth 1st generation digital camera.

I stood up for myself in a new way this evening, I feel as though I say something like this every night, but it’s fun to recount what small victories I make these days. I spent last night mutually bitching with an acquaintance over the injustices of the world, how Hollins is often like a middle-school and people need to grow up sometimes.

I wish that I could say it all to them, though it now remains as unfinished letters in this journal. I’d like to say that “you didn’t win,” and “I know all about how you operate (because I have more friends than you think),” — mostly I wish that I could say that “I am happy where I am, and people can discern between that and people with bitter vendettas.”

I took the photo of Z. in the fading light at Mill Mountain; I’ve spent a few nights there now recounting what used to be a nightly ritual. Again, it comes down to old traditions with new people, and how it feels like upgrading from the beta to the new version.

Today has been interesting, a nice day to say the least. I spent the morning at the writing center, then posed for some portrait photography for this senior’s photography thesis or something. It was certainly an interesting experience, having never been asked to model before. I had this distinct feeling of, well, not dejavu per se, but you see I was clutching a fur coat around my neck, my hair somewhat teased, with a relaxed look on my face. I felt like my great grandmother posing in some portrait. I felt old and young at the same time. It helped that the camera a modern version of a very old accordion-looking camera. The kind where you use a blackened sheet to keep out the light.

I hope they come out well.

Then I had a lovely lunch with El. Without delving too much into a romantic image (which is to say this is NOT romantic) she’s the first friend I’ve felt safe around in a while. Z. noted that I have recently begun to be distrustful of all of my close friends, pointing out when they have asked me for rides as if it is some proof that they’re only using me for my resources, for my push-over nature.

Later, as fate would have it, I wound up visiting M. at his new and stole music (amicably, of course) from his impressive 200gb collection.

And now I am laying in wait for Z. to come visit me for the weekend (back to consistency, I like it.) He’s taking a different route, so we’ll see if it’s faster. Instead of the normal 421 to 77 to 81, he’s going through Tennessee.

We’ll get IHOP with El. tonight after her shift. We’ll watch tv-on-dvd and sleep and enjoy how spring is overtaking the campus.

I plucked a pinkish seed pod from a tree as I walked back to Main from my car, tucked it in my thrifted 1939 copy of Anna Karenina that I need to read (it has watercolor illustrations!) I’ve felt in a vintage (19th c.) mood today.

One of the album’s that M. gave me was one I’d already heard a lot at home: Matthew Sweet – Girlfriend. What a brilliant album. There are a few albums and songs that give me vivid memories of home, anything by The Church, The Hollies Greatest Hits, Hanson – This Time Around (little known facts: they’re still around, they’ve done other songs than MMMBop, they are all married, they are all in their twenties, how about that!), The Moody Blues – whatever album Nights in White Satin is on, the Left Banke’s Walk Away Renee.

There is this one album that I put on my iPod, Anisa Angarola’s Irish Air’s & Dances, that my dad would play at EVERY. SINGLE. dinner party we’d have at the house. It’s so weird how the mind works, how memory will pull up a very specific image (my dining room before being redone, egg-shell linoleum floors and a giant 1970’s cylindrical chandelier that rarely ever worked right) and scent (garlicky dinners, Italian bread being toasted in the oven).

Well, M. also gave me a Tullycraft compendium which made the inner twee kid squeal. I saw them at Athens Pop Fest ‘07, heard them first in M.’s car as we drove down to Floyd for no apparent reason but to shoot the breeze, watch the sun set, cut slick down a mountain side where Virginia was tucked neatly and glittering into a valley.

Time has progressed since I began this entry. Z. gets closer and closer to Roanoke, and I find myself unable to clean up the room. I’ll greet him in my pajamas, it’s ok.

Did you know I can type 79 wpm? I learned this morning. Fascinating stuff.

God, I got the sudden emo urge to songerize Black by Pearl Jam. What a mistake. I found the cover I used to listen to obsessively too. Don’t judge me, but if you songerize “Black” by “Staind” you’ll get a particularly depressing version as covered by frontman Aaron something-or-another.

I know, I know. It meant something to me in my ~angsty teenage years~. And by that I mean I played it repetitively and did emo things like consider the hopelessness of it all. Ok, I wasn’t that depressing, but I didn’t have too many friends in high school.

I can’t get to sleep; I really feel the need to write poetry but it’s not flowing freely. The subjects are again too close, love, longing, loss, glimpses of those moving on (and though you have too, onwards and upwards, it’s always weird, isn’t it?)

The best thing, I think, is sleep at this point, despite my stomach’s urging for a second helping of dad’s spicy szechuan (sleepily spelled horribly wrong?) noodles.

Six days until I see my boyfriend again, this is the longest we’ve gone (26 days I think at the end of it). It sucks, but so does money. I’ve never wished away a week faster.

Friday night was spent reliving a past passion, the act of going downtown for dinner and mingling, going to No Shame theatre (though it was small, and comparatively un-funny to others I’ve attended,) and just spending time with friends in the city air. I saw a few locals I used to know, though I think with this hair cut and this total 180 in terms of friends (i.e. not barging into a room with an abrasively loud force) they maybe didn’t recognize me.

It’s refreshing to be putting myself in new social situations (I’ve even grown an impressive back-bone these days.) This past weekend has been some sort of weight off my shoulders; not easy, no no, but just, to repeat, refreshing. The sun is out again in full swing and although its not warm, it’s not cold (a new feeling for me — I’ve been cold since last spring, and I don’t mean that emotionally.)

What is new, what is new. I have signed up to read at April 29th’s Grapheon; it was only fair to make an appearance I think — the theme is (from what I can gather by the cryptic title) Karma, and coincidentally, I just recently made a post on my other journal about what I believed to be karmic retributions of sort (also a cryptic notion, the post was about four words long, and never once mentioned the event I thought to be of karmic nature.)

What a coincidence that the theme love poems was so recently crossed out then and “Is it KARMA?” was put in it’s place as the theme! It’s as if I have some sort of power over these things.

I’ve drunk three cups of tea today, and I doubt I’m done rampaging through the stashes; my own collection is dwindling, but luckily there is always (albeit rather limited in selection) tea at Moody. Finally, a constant at Moody that isn’t either completely gross, or something you immediately regret eating.

I’ve found myself to now be fully and finally lactose intolerant, fulfilling my destiny as a nerdy jew. Yeah, I’m the kid who went to cognitive therapy during elementary school due to extreme separation anxiety (and cause I was too damn smart, how about that) and the kid who spent middle school in after-school computer graphics classes, the formative years spent surfing AOL teen chat-rooms and playing video games. I am now the lady who enjoys tutoring for a living, who nags her boyfriend in that jewish guilt way about soda (hypocritically, as I want nothing more than to run downstairs barefoot to purchase a coke) and vegetables, who enjoys bargain hunting and thrifting.

All I can do these days in journals is redefine myself; I must be at that age where it’s prevalent. I keep hinting around this giant falling out I had with friends, but never get straight to the point of how much it’s fucked up my sense of self. Everything my life was based around here at this tight little bubble of emotion has been changed. I enjoy sitting alone at meals (though now I am spending more time with new friends,) I enjoy talking to new people (and don’t automatically think of ways to paint them as inferior,) I enjoy late nights in the Writing Center listening to music and doing homework.

At the same time, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss everything last spring was to my life (not the friends so much as the events that shaped me.)

So I went back a year in my other online journal, thinking I’d see something small that I could relate to in terms of “how much I miss a former state of being.” It was an interesting thing to do, because I didn’t remember the significance of March 9th/10th off the top of my head. It was in fact a pivotal day in my life, one when I realized that I am a lady on top of everything, and I am attractive and worthwhile. It also proved a long-standing theory I’ve had on songs:

“ last week i left my phone number on a cute little piece of paper at the macado’s hoping the manager (S.) would call me. after a night of flirty-eyes and coming-to-our-table-to-awkwardly-subvert-waitress, i was super pumped. boys just don’t LIKE me. not cute ones, not ones with fluffy hair and my kind of build. when we got back into the car at like 1:30 am the mix cd kathy made started to play this modest mouse song, “Gravity Rides Everything”. literally just started as i turned on the car. “in the motions, in the things that you say, it all will fall, fall right into place.”

so, cracked out on boy-love, i wrote that quote on my white-board calendar and made it my ringtone for unknown calls.i listened to it once daily.he didn’t call.

i wished i could go back in time and ask his name like i was supposed to.

friday night rolls around, and after a brilliant day of chinese food, blasting anna nalick around the loop multiple times, mill mountain awkward love (twice! in one day!) we go to no shame. there are 13 or 14 performers which is unusual, at least in my experience, and most of them are funny as shit.

we go to macados. i am discouraged by the fact that i a. will be sitting with 12 other girls; b. M. who was supposed to come meet me decided to get drunk instead; c. we were not in our usual booth (where, let me tell you, both times i saw him previously i was in the same booth, seat, the same OUTFIT [right down to the earrings], and eating the same thing. i’m glad he wasn’t horrified, because i was.)

i see him immediately upon our entrance and he smiles at me a bunch of times. i have to squeeze past him at one point and he gives me a grin and a ‘hi there.’

M. calls me because “txting is too hard when yr drunk”. the noise of the no shame regulars down a booth and our 13 girls made me need to go outside to take my call.

as i walked down the hall i saw S. leaning against the bar. i went outside, where i proceeded to talk to M as he said “drunk” and “fuck” a few times before i saw S. in the doorway (he followed me). he walked outside. we were alone.

i did what any good person in my situation would do and hung up the phone. I stood awkwardly a moment, thinking I had caught him on a smoke break or something. no cigarette was pulled. he holds the door for me and I lean against it.

“What’s your name by the way?” I ask, completely horrified by my own GUMPTION. (i said it.)
“S., what’s yours?” we were grinning.
“C.”
“..Ohhh… that was you…”
“That was me.”
“We found it on the table but I didn’t know who’s it was”
“It was me.”
“Want me to call you sometime?”
[my phone starts to vibrate again and it's M. again but I just press mute.]
“I would love that.”

then we shook hands.

so here is my theory about songs: they’re signs. and if you listen to the ones that are specifically sent to you for moments you experience, listen at least once a day; things might just work out. “