goodbye Naples Rd
(better email me before you write)
(should any of you write)
Monday, April 30, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
okay I know I can be more of a leap first and look later kind of a girl and so I will often get really excited about things that turn out to be CRACK HOUSE MOMENTS (ex: volley ball in jr high, calling Mandy at 2 am New Years morning to profess my love for the Jew, Joanna Newsom) but THIS is the real deal yo!
Regina Spektor is my best discovery since Fiona Apple a year ago (I know, I found Fiona shamefully late in life, but at least I found her). Regina is RADical! Here's a little taste, but don't be shy after you hear this one to poke around a bit, because they're all SO good
Samson (dedicated here to my sweetest downfall! ohhhh!)
Regina Spektor is my best discovery since Fiona Apple a year ago (I know, I found Fiona shamefully late in life, but at least I found her). Regina is RADical! Here's a little taste, but don't be shy after you hear this one to poke around a bit, because they're all SO good
Samson (dedicated here to my sweetest downfall! ohhhh!)
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
I didn't take that first picture
I just like it because Perez looks hot! can I please reincarnate as a real runner.
Well last Monday was the Boston marathon. I was feeling kind of gloomy, like the weather, but I decided to walk down to the race (just down my street really) to cheer on the runners for a bit. I ended up by this great old woman in a big old LLBean parka and with a thick boston accent. Though we were around mile marker 20, it was still pretty early on in the race and so runners were only trickling by, letting her cheer on every runner by name--or at least by whatever their most distinguishing feature/article of clothing was. "That's right Notre Dame!" "Go army!" "Moustache, yes!" she was great. after she left I was kind of down--I really wanted to slip her my phone number and ask her to call me every so often and leave inspiring messages on my voice mail
Well last Monday was the Boston marathon. I was feeling kind of gloomy, like the weather, but I decided to walk down to the race (just down my street really) to cheer on the runners for a bit. I ended up by this great old woman in a big old LLBean parka and with a thick boston accent. Though we were around mile marker 20, it was still pretty early on in the race and so runners were only trickling by, letting her cheer on every runner by name--or at least by whatever their most distinguishing feature/article of clothing was. "That's right Notre Dame!" "Go army!" "Moustache, yes!" she was great. after she left I was kind of down--I really wanted to slip her my phone number and ask her to call me every so often and leave inspiring messages on my voice mailSince Monday our weather has looked up--the sun came out (it's been about 3 weeks since we'd seen it) and today we were suddenly in the 70's (as opposed to high 30's that windchill turns into low 20's). I know mom loves it when I talk weather.
I've been feeling sunnier too. You know I could use a good hug, but who couldn't? we probably all could. and I get told "i love you" like 20 times a day by three cute little girls, so how can I complain. I dropped my camera trying to take a picture of this monstrous bruise by my armpit and now the video part won't work. dang it aall. no more youtube rants.
Friday, April 13, 2007
older people
Rebecca's eighty something mother suffering from dimensia has been our longtime visitor. I run into her in the hall sometimes and admire her inspiring collection of knitted accessories--booties, hats, those parka things. sometimes I get urges to set her free when no one's looking--like the last (yes, mandy, LAST) surviving ant in the kitterman's antfarm--except like that ant I know she wouldn't make it long on the street. I guess she's also half deaf, so Rebecca and other members of the family are always yelling these days. There's just so much of "WINDOW!!! mom, I said do you want me to open the WINDOW?!" a girl like me can take. and only so much that poor old lady can take I'm sure. When I met crazy people I used to always feel grateful that they weren't my parents, now I add and that I'm not theirs.
This is not Rebecca's nuts mother, but it is a picture of the loveliest fish in the sea. Don't you just want a kiss?
This is not Rebecca's nuts mother, but it is a picture of the loveliest fish in the sea. Don't you just want a kiss?
Monday, April 09, 2007
Happy belated Passover
Well last week my bud Aimee and I decided to crash a passover. For some reason we decided we could pass as Jewish--my old roommate thought I was a Jew. she was Mexican. (which all resulted in a lot of weird Anne Frank in Mexico poetry that my professor told me was too politically incorrect to ever see the light of publishing). Aimee, on the otherhand, couldn't look more Sacandanavian.
Anyway, our dreams of kind of benignly blending in died pretty quickly--the rabbi greeted us at the door with big boisterous Hebrew--probably something like "happy passover"--and all we could do was stare at him and giggle nervously before we ran away to a table in the back. I was hoping we could hide amidst one of the families too preoccupied with their ADD children to notice our obvious Gentile-hood, but instead we were joined by Stephanie (a twenty something-very Jewish) and two (fifty something) newly divorced Bachelors--Eli and Moshi--looking for love. I tried hinting to Stephanie that we weren't Jewish by saying this was only my second passover (thank you Brother Ludlow) and that she would have to help us along, but she just said she hadn't done a lot of formal passovering herself and that we could help eachother out (oh crap).
Well real passover is a far cry from the watered down grape juice version of brother Ludlow. lots and lots of long Hebrew prayer songs (lots and lots of mumbling and moving my lips so people don't catch on that I have no idea what is going on), lots of strange ritual food combinations ("take a bite of matzah"-"now take a bite of your lettuce with some horseradish on it"-"now make a matzah sandwhich with the lettuce and horseradish and take a bite"-"now put the matzah on your head and dance like a chicken").
The real delight of the evening was Eli deciding that I would make a great wife number three. How these men interpret my discomfort and complete lack of interest for mutual flirting is always a mystery to me--but it happens enough to keep my wondering.
The good news is that as the evening went on everyone got a little drunker--even Aimee and I on our grape juice loosened up after four hours of insanity--and by the end no one cared that we had no idea what we were doing, the kids and the charismatically childlike rabbi were dancing around the room, Moshi was trying to help Aimee see that her French ancestry really came down through the house of Isreal and I was giving my email address to Eli for free Hebrew lessons. Aimee and I stumbled home, arm in arm singing "DAYENU!" to the night sky--maybe Kristia was right. I felt pretty Jewish.
Meanwhile in Boston town--I am looking to move. checking out South American NGOs for some summer work. doing well.
love you, erin.
Anyway, our dreams of kind of benignly blending in died pretty quickly--the rabbi greeted us at the door with big boisterous Hebrew--probably something like "happy passover"--and all we could do was stare at him and giggle nervously before we ran away to a table in the back. I was hoping we could hide amidst one of the families too preoccupied with their ADD children to notice our obvious Gentile-hood, but instead we were joined by Stephanie (a twenty something-very Jewish) and two (fifty something) newly divorced Bachelors--Eli and Moshi--looking for love. I tried hinting to Stephanie that we weren't Jewish by saying this was only my second passover (thank you Brother Ludlow) and that she would have to help us along, but she just said she hadn't done a lot of formal passovering herself and that we could help eachother out (oh crap).
Well real passover is a far cry from the watered down grape juice version of brother Ludlow. lots and lots of long Hebrew prayer songs (lots and lots of mumbling and moving my lips so people don't catch on that I have no idea what is going on), lots of strange ritual food combinations ("take a bite of matzah"-"now take a bite of your lettuce with some horseradish on it"-"now make a matzah sandwhich with the lettuce and horseradish and take a bite"-"now put the matzah on your head and dance like a chicken").
The real delight of the evening was Eli deciding that I would make a great wife number three. How these men interpret my discomfort and complete lack of interest for mutual flirting is always a mystery to me--but it happens enough to keep my wondering.
The good news is that as the evening went on everyone got a little drunker--even Aimee and I on our grape juice loosened up after four hours of insanity--and by the end no one cared that we had no idea what we were doing, the kids and the charismatically childlike rabbi were dancing around the room, Moshi was trying to help Aimee see that her French ancestry really came down through the house of Isreal and I was giving my email address to Eli for free Hebrew lessons. Aimee and I stumbled home, arm in arm singing "DAYENU!" to the night sky--maybe Kristia was right. I felt pretty Jewish.
Meanwhile in Boston town--I am looking to move. checking out South American NGOs for some summer work. doing well.
love you, erin.
Monday, April 02, 2007
to whit
For those who don't know, Whitney Nelson, my brother Andrew's girlfriend/almost wife, died last Sunday. Andrew is doing amazingly well and is still lost in his missionary work in Pennsylvania.
Last week I was too sad to write my own words. poetry is made for those kinds of times. I felt for a little while that the world was all sold-out of joy. but already I find it creeping back, slowly. shy and awkward--a little more jaded, more world weary, but essentially, the same.
'This is what the atonement's good for', Abby reminded me last Sunday night walking around Walden pond where the sun played on low branches that rose up out of the water like glorious forearms, 'for swallowing up pain and guilt and regret and death--leaving us with clean lessons.'
Now that Whitney is gone I am suddenly flooded with all the lessons I should have been accepting from her while she was still alive.
that life is good and exciting and that we shouldn't be afraid of it, that people are good and exciting and that we shouldn't be afraid of them, that there are a million ways to be alive and who am I to judge instead of love.
I want to thank her for what she gave me: the confidence to wear high heels as a tall person, a working knowledge of the wonders of hairspray (why didn't I know about this sooner?), the blonde streak in my hair.
I want to thank her for challenging me. my feminism, my femininity, my relationship with Andrew and with my mother.
I want to say I'm sorry for not accepting these lessons more gracefully.
I love you Whitney Nelson. We were growing our hair out in a race to our elbows. I think of you when I eat tortilla soup.
I am glad that I knew you and I am better for it.
LOVE.erin
Last week I was too sad to write my own words. poetry is made for those kinds of times. I felt for a little while that the world was all sold-out of joy. but already I find it creeping back, slowly. shy and awkward--a little more jaded, more world weary, but essentially, the same.
'This is what the atonement's good for', Abby reminded me last Sunday night walking around Walden pond where the sun played on low branches that rose up out of the water like glorious forearms, 'for swallowing up pain and guilt and regret and death--leaving us with clean lessons.'
Now that Whitney is gone I am suddenly flooded with all the lessons I should have been accepting from her while she was still alive.
that life is good and exciting and that we shouldn't be afraid of it, that people are good and exciting and that we shouldn't be afraid of them, that there are a million ways to be alive and who am I to judge instead of love.
I want to thank her for what she gave me: the confidence to wear high heels as a tall person, a working knowledge of the wonders of hairspray (why didn't I know about this sooner?), the blonde streak in my hair.
I want to thank her for challenging me. my feminism, my femininity, my relationship with Andrew and with my mother.
I want to say I'm sorry for not accepting these lessons more gracefully.
I love you Whitney Nelson. We were growing our hair out in a race to our elbows. I think of you when I eat tortilla soup.
I am glad that I knew you and I am better for it.
LOVE.erin
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
A Blessing
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.
James Wright
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.
James Wright
Monday, March 26, 2007
Musee des Beaux Arts
About suffering they were never wrong,
The old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position: how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water, and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
W.H. Auden
About suffering they were never wrong,
The old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position: how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water, and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
W.H. Auden
Monday, March 19, 2007
Monday, March 05, 2007
the worst day
well Paul just came upstairs to confirm my fears: due to an odious series of events my shoes accidentally got thrown out with the trash this morning.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Feeling HOT
yeah baby.
'
life has been a bit nutty lately. my day(s) off are devoted to one task at a time (as per the depressed people article mom sent me "don't set your goals too high/don't expect to actually do anything with yourself"): go to the library, call someone back, get milk--any one of those could make for a full day. today was phone BU. I ate my toad in the morning, but then the rest of the day you have toad breathe.
'
You can see from the picture how I feel about oranges. I really love them. I feel we are kindred organisms. mandy is coming to visit me on the 13th of march-isn't that nice. what a sweet pants.
My body is feeling quite healed but all the same I've traded the boston marathon for a half marathon in NH in May. my ward actually has a big team that runs it every year. we are: Team Sweet Feet--Faster than the Green-line. cute. I don't think I actually am faster than the green-line these days. I need new running shoes that don't make my feet feel like spaghetti. smelly Harris, I think about calling you just about everyday, but at this rate we are going to be grannies. maybe you should call me. Big crazy Jewish men, on the otherhand, can please give it a rest.
Friday, February 16, 2007
happy day off
It's Friday--what I lovingly refer to as my day off, when really I only work 2 days a week and go to school 1--and in honor of that I took a walk this morning over ice and snow to visit the frozen Charles.
two things you should know:
1. it FINALLY really snowed here
2. ever since I realized that the river in Eternal Sunshine is the Charles I have been obsessed with the idea of it freezing over
Well, it finally has and I don't know where the geese went--they must be hiding in a Dunkin Donuts somewhere cursing New England weather.
I have these horrible cover letters that I saved for myself to write today (on the day off) and now I want to do anything but*. I know Mom's shaking her head--she's going to send me an article on procrastination. anyone want to reenact the motorcycle diaries with me this summer? I'm looking for adventure.
erin
*so far: re-figure out the Kalai song on my guitar that I already figured out and then didn't write down and then forgot, learn the countries of the caribean, make weird peanut butter/flax seed contraptions (a sure sign I need to grocery shop), email links to stupid things to mandy
two things you should know:
1. it FINALLY really snowed here
2. ever since I realized that the river in Eternal Sunshine is the Charles I have been obsessed with the idea of it freezing over
Well, it finally has and I don't know where the geese went--they must be hiding in a Dunkin Donuts somewhere cursing New England weather.
I have these horrible cover letters that I saved for myself to write today (on the day off) and now I want to do anything but*. I know Mom's shaking her head--she's going to send me an article on procrastination. anyone want to reenact the motorcycle diaries with me this summer? I'm looking for adventure.
erin
*so far: re-figure out the Kalai song on my guitar that I already figured out and then didn't write down and then forgot, learn the countries of the caribean, make weird peanut butter/flax seed contraptions (a sure sign I need to grocery shop), email links to stupid things to mandy
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Frank O'Hara and I wish you a happy saint valentines day
Morning
I've got to tell you
how I love you always
I think of it on grey
mornings with death
in my mouth the tea
is never hot enough
then and the cigarette
dry the maroon robe
chills me I need you
and look out the window
at the noiseless snow
At night on the dock
the buses glow like
clouds and I am lonely
thinking of flutes
I miss you always
when I go to the beach
the sand is wet with
tears that seem mine
although I never weep
and hold you in my
heart with a very real
humor you'd be proud of
the parking lot is
crowded and I stand
rattling my keys the car
is empty as a bicycle
what are you doing now
where did you eat your
lunch and were there
lots of anchovies it
is difficult to think
of you without me in
the sentence you depress
me when you are alone
Last night the stars
were numerous and today
snow is their calling
card I'll not be cordial
there is nothing that
distracts me music is
only a crossword puzzle
do you know how it is
when you are the only
passenger if there is a
place further from me
I beg you do not go
--Frank O'Hara
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Monday, February 05, 2007
february 5th
hey there
it's been so long I feel a little shy...let's talk about the weather
Winter has finally come to Boston. yeah. It is, however and according to the BFF Abby, "stupid ugly winter". Stupid ugly winter is when you have all the crappy stuff about winter (the cold, dead things, ice, dirty half melted snow) without the good stuff about winter. you know the good stuff--winter wonderland type stuff. I think I experienced that one night--I was coming home late and it had just snowed (probably 3 inches or less) and coming up to my house nobody had walked in it yet and even though it was night the snow made everything bright. it made my porch seem sacred--like I should sleep in the yard rather than muss up the snow. that only happened one time.
so for those who know and those who want to know!!!!I somehow tore or stressed an intercostal muscle and if I didn't know my anatomy better I would say it's a big fat pain in my BUTT. (Abby, who isn't an anatomatician told me it must be my metatarsal) For a few days it was so bad it hurt to laugh--I was telling people to please try and not make me laugh. the worst part is I can't run on it. I tried (stubbornly--against cyber-doctor's orders) the other day and after 2 1/2 miles I was ready to cry and I had to stop. I think I did cry on the way home. running makes me feel strong and this stupid muscle makes me feel like an invalid old lady--"hold up there wipper-snapper! where's your hurry!". After a couple days of resting it, though, it feels a lot better and in the interim there's always yoga! yeah yoga!
School is going well--I am part time right now, just two and a half classes (one is a block class). the best one is the epidemiology of AIDS-really interesting. I might save someone yet. I saw a man in the subway yesterday with a sign "living with AIDS" I didn't know what to think, I don't understand that kind of humility--anyway you look at that word. I gave him my T-card because I didn't have any money. I am reading too much at one time, including:
mountains beyond mountains (almost done--in fact it's due at the library tomorrow)
on beauty (thanks Merran--I got the one with voices. I listen to it while I knit)
dummy's guide to meditation
some "so you're a retard" self help books
On Poverty (again!! I thought I was done trying to read this book, but then the library had a cute soft cover copy on display--I am a sucker for cute soft covers)
etc. etc.
Jeff, I lost the scrap of paper where I wrote your recommendation--please recommend it again.
erin
it's been so long I feel a little shy...let's talk about the weather
Winter has finally come to Boston. yeah. It is, however and according to the BFF Abby, "stupid ugly winter". Stupid ugly winter is when you have all the crappy stuff about winter (the cold, dead things, ice, dirty half melted snow) without the good stuff about winter. you know the good stuff--winter wonderland type stuff. I think I experienced that one night--I was coming home late and it had just snowed (probably 3 inches or less) and coming up to my house nobody had walked in it yet and even though it was night the snow made everything bright. it made my porch seem sacred--like I should sleep in the yard rather than muss up the snow. that only happened one time.
so for those who know and those who want to know!!!!I somehow tore or stressed an intercostal muscle and if I didn't know my anatomy better I would say it's a big fat pain in my BUTT. (Abby, who isn't an anatomatician told me it must be my metatarsal) For a few days it was so bad it hurt to laugh--I was telling people to please try and not make me laugh. the worst part is I can't run on it. I tried (stubbornly--against cyber-doctor's orders) the other day and after 2 1/2 miles I was ready to cry and I had to stop. I think I did cry on the way home. running makes me feel strong and this stupid muscle makes me feel like an invalid old lady--"hold up there wipper-snapper! where's your hurry!". After a couple days of resting it, though, it feels a lot better and in the interim there's always yoga! yeah yoga!
School is going well--I am part time right now, just two and a half classes (one is a block class). the best one is the epidemiology of AIDS-really interesting. I might save someone yet. I saw a man in the subway yesterday with a sign "living with AIDS" I didn't know what to think, I don't understand that kind of humility--anyway you look at that word. I gave him my T-card because I didn't have any money. I am reading too much at one time, including:
mountains beyond mountains (almost done--in fact it's due at the library tomorrow)
on beauty (thanks Merran--I got the one with voices. I listen to it while I knit)
dummy's guide to meditation
some "so you're a retard" self help books
On Poverty (again!! I thought I was done trying to read this book, but then the library had a cute soft cover copy on display--I am a sucker for cute soft covers)
etc. etc.
Jeff, I lost the scrap of paper where I wrote your recommendation--please recommend it again.
erin
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Saturday, February 03, 2007
dream of yu
I like you spelled that way--that way maybe I dreamt of you, but maybe I dreamt of some Chinese man instead
I dreamt that you were fresh home off your mission. home was this mix of provo and boston. your hair was long (because you hadn't cut your mission hair yet--weird dream fact that doesn't make sense now). we kept riding around in this mini van and we kept taking these shortcuts by riding along the subway tracks. I knew we weren't supposed to do it and like 3 times the subway came along and almost ran us over, but they never honked at us so we just kept doing it. finally I got sick of almost getting run over so we started biking everywhere. frank was alive and you carried him everywhere we went under your arm--like mandy carries scoop. I told you that there was so much music I wanted you to hear it was crazy and we were both really excited for me to play it for you. for some reason we rented a hotel room. I left the room to get something on my bike and had this whole dream montage of Erin on her Bike (like the Ringgo goes Walking Alone Outside montage) and then when I came back I realized that we shouldn't stay in a hotel room because mom probably really wanted to see you and because I didn't want to spend money on one when we could just go home. from outside on my bike I called to you to come out (the hotel was Grandpa's condos). you stuck out your head and said "Erin!" in a whiney, leave me alone voice. your face had a partially drawn mustache on it, like I caught you in the middle of play acting like a little boy and you said "I just need some time to think!" my feelings were hurt because I really wanted to be with you, but a guy nearby had heard it and was kind of shaking his head like he was on my side so I just said "well that's REALLY great!" sarcastically, more for him than for you. than as I was leaving I told you to take care of frank. you complained, but I said I couldn't ride with him on my bike (which is when I realized that somehow you had) and you said okay. I suddenly felt kind again, instead of hurt, and said I would just go ride around for a while and give you some time. as I was riding away I thought how you were just off your mission and of course you had a lot to think about and I decided I would ride home for you and get you your journal to write in and maybe some church music to listen to. I was worried about leaving Frank. probably because I was starting to wake up, I realized that he was actually dead now, and so since he wasn't real I didn't really have to worry about him.
I dreamt that you were fresh home off your mission. home was this mix of provo and boston. your hair was long (because you hadn't cut your mission hair yet--weird dream fact that doesn't make sense now). we kept riding around in this mini van and we kept taking these shortcuts by riding along the subway tracks. I knew we weren't supposed to do it and like 3 times the subway came along and almost ran us over, but they never honked at us so we just kept doing it. finally I got sick of almost getting run over so we started biking everywhere. frank was alive and you carried him everywhere we went under your arm--like mandy carries scoop. I told you that there was so much music I wanted you to hear it was crazy and we were both really excited for me to play it for you. for some reason we rented a hotel room. I left the room to get something on my bike and had this whole dream montage of Erin on her Bike (like the Ringgo goes Walking Alone Outside montage) and then when I came back I realized that we shouldn't stay in a hotel room because mom probably really wanted to see you and because I didn't want to spend money on one when we could just go home. from outside on my bike I called to you to come out (the hotel was Grandpa's condos). you stuck out your head and said "Erin!" in a whiney, leave me alone voice. your face had a partially drawn mustache on it, like I caught you in the middle of play acting like a little boy and you said "I just need some time to think!" my feelings were hurt because I really wanted to be with you, but a guy nearby had heard it and was kind of shaking his head like he was on my side so I just said "well that's REALLY great!" sarcastically, more for him than for you. than as I was leaving I told you to take care of frank. you complained, but I said I couldn't ride with him on my bike (which is when I realized that somehow you had) and you said okay. I suddenly felt kind again, instead of hurt, and said I would just go ride around for a while and give you some time. as I was riding away I thought how you were just off your mission and of course you had a lot to think about and I decided I would ride home for you and get you your journal to write in and maybe some church music to listen to. I was worried about leaving Frank. probably because I was starting to wake up, I realized that he was actually dead now, and so since he wasn't real I didn't really have to worry about him.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Monday, January 15, 2007
happy MLK day
hey! I miss my family so much this week it's just silly. thank you for the little ways you all keep in touch. and what are the chances of moving the family headquarters to someplace more palatable (California? Oregon?).
It's a rainy Martin Luther King jr. day, school starts tomorrow and I am just trying to sort it all out
Right now I am blanket applying to all these different internships (Dear Madams and Sirs, I am so crazy passionate about ____________
fill in the blank:
AIDS
the Anti-Smoking campaign
Obesity
Sri Lanka)
and it's funny how something so little could end up dictating my whole career. When you're little and you want to save the world you don't realize that your ability to change anything will be pared down to what you can fit in a wheelbarrow and you'll run around trying to knock people in and you'll be lucky and happy to catch some flying spectacles.
sometimes I'm down to thimbles
I don't really have anything to say, I just wanted to replace that embarrassing i-pod pic
Erin
It's a rainy Martin Luther King jr. day, school starts tomorrow and I am just trying to sort it all out
Right now I am blanket applying to all these different internships (Dear Madams and Sirs, I am so crazy passionate about ____________
fill in the blank:
AIDS
the Anti-Smoking campaign
Obesity
Sri Lanka)
and it's funny how something so little could end up dictating my whole career. When you're little and you want to save the world you don't realize that your ability to change anything will be pared down to what you can fit in a wheelbarrow and you'll run around trying to knock people in and you'll be lucky and happy to catch some flying spectacles.
sometimes I'm down to thimbles
I don't really have anything to say, I just wanted to replace that embarrassing i-pod pic
Erin
Monday, January 08, 2007
for anyone who knows how long I have been waiting to make this purchase
after this I promise I'll be a good non-consumer
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